


Our Fates Divided

by saucyminx



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-12
Updated: 2010-08-12
Packaged: 2017-10-28 05:58:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 40,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saucyminx/pseuds/saucyminx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean was raised to be a hunter and this was the life he knew. Just like he knew his mother and baby brother had been killed in a fire when he was just a little boy. This didn't explain the things he was about to learn though. Or why this Sam Wesson character seemed so oddly familiar. And once they've reached a point where it was impossible to go back, they're about to learn a truth neither are ready for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**BOYFRIEND HELD IN MACMILLAN MURDER**  
 _by Sam Wesson_

 _Black Forrest, Colorado. Nov. 6, 2009:_ Jason Shandy (27) is in police custody in connection with the murder of local school teacher Liz MacMillan (25) a source said.

MacMillan was found Tuesday beaten to death in her own home. Shandy was taken into custody at the scene of the crime.

Wednesday, Ann MacMillan said she cannot believe that Shandy killed her daughter. "They were in love, he was like a son to us," she said.

MacMillan's death is the seventh local murder since September. Arrests have been made in all cases. In each case, suspect was known to have a relationship to the victim.

Authorities maintain that the murders are unrelated.

The article was one of seven Dean had spread out on the hotel table in front of him. Just the tiniest blurb in a small city newspaper but it meant more than Dean would ever know. His attention had first been drawn to the deaths by a random internet search. It was the kind of search he usually did when things were slow and he had nowhere in particular to go. If it had been just one or two murders, Dean's suspicions probably wouldn't have been raised, but seven? Seven deaths all committed by family members or loved ones; seemingly so random and out-of-character they left nothing but shock in their wake.

It might be nothing or it might be something and Dean couldn't take that chance.

Colorado was kind of in the middle of everything anyway, half way between one place and another, so it wasn't so much out of his way to make a stop. Dean had already spoken with the local law enforcement. Of course none of them were connecting the murders. How could they? Each victim was supposedly killed by someone different. They'd all given him odd looks, coming in with his fancy business suit and flashing his FBI badge. That was the thing about looking official though; people seldom, if ever, questioned you.

It was never so easy with family though. That task was possibly Dean's least favorite. Family members rarely took kindly to complete strangers coming in and asking questions about the one they'd lost and the one who'd done it, even if there was a fancy fake badge to show off.

Basically, this meant, after a solid two days of research Dean didn't have much more to go on than he had before. Each murder had been equally brutal and bloody, each murderer seemed completely clueless as to how the deaths had happened. If there had been witnesses placing them at the scene of the crime there were also some conflicting alibis.

Frankly, Dean didn't know what to make of it. Some might find that disheartening but for Dean it was sort of an adrenaline kick. Sometimes, things felt a little mundane to him. After all, how many times could he salt and burn a body, effectively putting an end to a haunting? If he were lucky he might have to go out of his way to find a particular body or the item keeping the ghost around. Occasionally there may be some sort of slime creature snatching people from the sewers and once Dean even had a run in with a vampire, but mostly things were far less stimulating than one might think.

Partly, it was just the fact that Dean did all the things alone. In the six years since he'd left his father's side, Dean's life had changed very little. He hunted things, traveling from place to place, browsing through the internet until he could find the next case to move on to. There were many nights spent alone in the bar or alone in his hotel room. Dean didn't really go out of his way to talk to people; in fact, he kind of sucked at it. All of that contributed to the difficulty he had talking to family members. It was different when his mind was on a job though, as opposed to purely social interactions.

The third day he was in Colorado there was another murder. Dean stumbled upon it by chance, pulling over to the side of the road when the flash of cop cars caught his eyes. People were milling about, talking quietly, hands over their mouths as if their words were too precious to share. Dean was in his FBI get up on the way to sit down with MacMillan family so he made his way through the crowd as official like as he could.

When he reached the tape separating the on lookers from the scene, his eyes fixed in on the men in coroner's uniforms leading out a gurney with a dark black body bag on top. The man standing beside him had a pad of paper clutched in his fingers and was scribbling something and Dean's eyebrows lifted slightly, glancing upward at his profile.

After another moment of consideration, he cleared his throat and leaned forward slightly. "Do you know who died here?" It probably wasn't the best opening line, as far as opening lines went, but it was blunt and to the point and would provide Dean with the information he was looking for so it worked.

"Who's askin'?" Sam didn't look up from his notebook until he finished the sentence he was writing. His eyes moved quickly of the arm of the dark suit to the man's face. Good looking man, a little hard maybe, looked like he'd been around the block more than a few times. Sam couldn't help the reporter in him looking for details; he made note of the rough hands, hard working hands and firm muscles. Then he found himself drawn to the man’s eyes again.

Tensing his shoulders, Dean slid a hand just inside his jacket pocket and pulled out his badge. "Just a question."

He flashed open the badge for the man to see and shook his head slightly. It would probably be easier to just go and talk to the cops but he recognized the men from a few days before and they'd been less then helpful. He needed a new angle if he was going to find any information. "So did you know the person or are you just going to continue to waste my time?"

"Wow. Don't hold back, might think you like me or somethin'." He flashed a smile at the agent.

"Sam Wesson, reporter with the Watch." He held out his hand.

Dean stopped, eyeing the man's hand. The name flashed in his mind from the newspaper articles and he shifted his stance, already slipping into a more polite, civilized manner. He knew to act this way when he wanted information from someone. "Michael Kerr. So you're the reporter who's been covering these murders."

Dean shook his hand once up then down then released, rubbing his palm against his dress pants. "Any idea if this one is like the others?"

"Yup, this one," he jutted his chin toward the house, "Erica Blanshard, 34, mother of three, owns the cafe downtown on the corner of Victoria and Nicola." He tapped his pen against his notepad for a few moments.

"Unconfirmed by anyone in a uniform, but I saw them take her husband away. If you ask me, these deaths are all connected somehow." Sam folded his arms, holding the notebook tight against his chest. "FBI getting involved?" His eyes moved back to Kerr's face, stubble. Glancing down at the man's hands again he noticed the dark tan on the backs of his hands, nails cut short, cuts, and scrapes on his fingers.

Head dipping down in a sharp nod, Dean let his eyes scan along the moving people. There were police officers moving about, a man being placed in the back of a car, three kids with watery, big eyes being led off by a large woman. Dean flinched at the sight and turned back to consider the reporter. "Things like this don't just happen in small towns. It's worth lookin' into." He lifted his shoulder in a casual shrug and reached up to adjust the tie constricting his neck. "So what makes you think they're all connected? Got any evidence on that?"

Less than ten feet away from them the lights started flashing on a police cruiser as it pulled out of the driveway drawing Sam’s gaze. "Doesn't all seem a bit suspicious to you? Besides - six degrees of Kevin Bacon."

Sam unfolded his arms and handed the agent his notebook, tapping his fingers beside a diagram he'd been scratching out. "Erica's husband - the one they've taken into custody _unofficially_ ," Sam rolled his eyes, "knew Liz MacMillan well. In fact," Sam leaned over and flipped the notebook to the next page showing Dean some times. "Her husband was supposed to be meeting up with Liz's boyfriend Shandy this afternoon to play tennis. I'm guessing neither of them is going to make it."

He held out his hand for the notebook, "Small city, but not _that_ small. There's a connection like that between each of the cases, one direction only. Each case connected somehow to the one after it. Call me paranoid but-" Sam shrugged and looked back up at the house.

Wetting his chapped lips, Dean stared at the notes on the paper before lifting his eyes to Sam. He hadn't gotten to the stage of finding out if the victims were connected in anyway; it was nice to think he didn't have to go through all the book work.

"Do you think I can get a copy of this?" Dean was uncomfortable in his suit. So far he'd worn it more in the last forty eight hours then he had in months. But knowing the victims were connected was a good lead, something he could work with.

"I could email you, or I'm on my way to the paper now - could meet you somewhere later and drop off some copies for you." Sam reached up and brushed his hair back off his forehead.

"You want meet for coffee later?" It was a two-way street after all; maybe this Kerr could give Sam some tips, something only someone on the inside would know. And, he was a pretty good looking guy; it wouldn't be painful to meet up with him somewhere.

Dean blinked at him, a little thrown by the question. For a moment he was tempted to turn and walk away because that was what he knew how to do best. Then he told himself that there might be information this Sam could provide him that he might not know otherwise. He forced himself to nod, "I have some things I needed to look into, but I believe there's a coffee house I saw near my hotel. Java something? We could meet there at three?"

"Java Jive, see you there." Sam nodded and shoved his notebook into his canvas bag and slipped off through the crowd. He already had his cell phone out as he threaded his way through the on-lookers; he flipped through his contact list to find the number for the Sheriff. Sam was willing to bet his next paycheck on the fact that Agent Kerr - wasn't an agent at all.

  
Staring at the line of Sam Wesson's back, Dean stood rooted to the spot until his brain once more shifted back into gear and he moved forward, ducking under the tape and heading toward the house. Something felt off about the whole situation and Dean fidgeted in his suit. Whatever was going on, this odd feeling, Dean shoved it away to that place where all his emotions and unknown feelings went. He focused in on the task at hand instead. Which was currently moving around the Blanshard house and looking for clues that the police hadn't thought to look for, wouldn’t know to even if they did.

By the time Sam was in his car he had Sheriff Candon on the phone. After the usual banter over how untrustworthy Sam was as a reporter and how tight-assed the Sheriff was Sam was hanging up to wait while Agent Kerr's status was checked out. Sam's suspicions were confirmed before he reached the paper; there was no Agent Kerr in the Colorado Field Office, nor was there any FBI on the case.

Sam's eye for detail didn't let him down often. It wouldn't stop Sam from meeting with the guy to see what he could find out; Sam didn't shy away from most challenges.

Back at his apartment a short time later, Sam stared at his laptop screen over the top of his coffee mug. There were still a lot of random files on his desktop from school. He'd been lucky, landing a job with a newspaper right out of journalism school. Hell, it wasn't even a university; he had just saved enough money to go to a private technical school for a one-year program that could give him the skills he needed to get a job. The searing heat of the coffee burning its way down his throat was good; he could feel it warming his body. It was fall, but the air outside was already cool.

Sam remembered the many conversations he'd had with his friends, why journalism? Why not? Sam's life, for the most part, had been about looking for things. When you were the kind of person who grew up thinking there was something _missing_ from your life you got good at searching.

Black Forest wasn't what Sam had in mind when he'd figured he would be reporting; but then, there weren't all that many actual newspapers left these days. The Internet was mutating journalism into an entirely new animal. One of the distinct advantages for Sam's job at the Watch was his freedom; no one questioned what stories he wrote or his deadlines and he came and went as he pleased. It wasn't a bad job at all for someone his age, someone intent on spending his life looking.

Once he was stuck into the files again, he lost track of the time and even managed to avoid looking at the clock at the bottom of his laptop screen until it was nearly three o'clock. Fortunately he wasn't very far away and not opposed to risking a speeding ticket so he made it there in good time.

Sam stood in the door of the coffee shop for a few moments as people brushed past him, bumping his shoulder, knocking into his bag then his eyes settled the man he'd met earlier.

He sank onto the bench beside the man, successfully trapping him in the booth and stretched his long legs out propping them up on the opposite seat. "So, here's the thing," he waved at the server and pointed to the man's coffee to let her know he wanted one as well. "You’re not an FBI agent. I don't really care much about who you are if we can help each other. I'm good that way."

Sam glanced at the man's surprised face out of the corner of his eye. Opening the flap on his bag he pulled out a thick file and rested it on the table in front of it. "I have a lot of information; you want to work on this together? I just need a name and no lies. I don't care who you are - just don't lie." He pressed his hand on the file and turned his head to look at the other man.

Sometimes Dean's stories fell through; he was always prepared for it to happen. Only most of the time people got mad at him, refused to talk to him, and never had they offered to work together. In fact, Dean hadn't used the word _together_ in reference to his work in a long time.

Blinking a few times, Dean sorted through stories and lies in his mind and settled on giving the bare minimum. If Sam said he didn't care who he was, then that was fine. As long as he didn't start asking questions they were good. "My name is Dean," he offered, bringing his coffee to his lips and shifting closer to the wall and further from the body that was too close for his comfort level.

"I'm familiar with this type of situation. I think I might be able to stop it. So..." he swallowed and awkwardly shifted a hand along the back of his neck. "I would like to see what information you have."

Nodding, Sam folded himself out of the booth and slipped into the other side as the server brought him his coffee. Grinning up at her he wrapped one hand around the steaming mug and pushed the file over toward Dean with his other. "Check out the first photo. I found the stuff at the scene of the first murder." He shrugged a shoulder and leaned back on the bench warming his hands on the mug.

"It was disgusting and let me tell you, I grew up on a farm so the fact that it grossed me out is sayin' something." _Dean_ , he was pretty sure that was the truth. It felt like the truth and Sam was glad that Dean didn't bother offering up any other lies. There was a lot of misdirection in the world and Sam could do without some from a complete stranger. After all, their lives would have little impact on one another's.

Pulling the file closer, Dean shifted through the papers on top, tilting the picture to the side. His face drew up in disgust at the sight and he glanced at Sam. "I didn't read anything about that in the police report. Did they just fail to notice a pile of goo?"

Dean shook his head slowly. He wouldn't put it passed the cops. People had this tendency to dismiss things they just couldn't understand. He wracked his mind for something that might have left this, thinking he'd heard of something similar before. "Can I get a copy of this photo too?"

Sam sipped at his coffee and pulled out his phone, flipping through the calendar. "Sure, you can keep this file, copied my stuff for you. I was betting on you telling the truth." Sam's lips curled into a smile briefly as he looked up to meet Dean's gaze.

"Here's the thing, I found that mess about three houses away. I was following some footprints that the Sheriff's men seemed too preoccupied to notice. This was inside a kid's playhouse near the back gate." Sam put his phone down on the table and flipped through a few of the photos pulling out one that showed the entrance to the doll's house. "Wanna know the best part?" His eyes flitted back up to Dean's again.

Dean's eyebrow arched slightly and he shifted forward once more to look at the pictures Sam had brought forth. Clearly Sam was curious, interested in the case on a level above and beyond that of a reporter. For a moment Dean felt concern that he might have to keep an eye on the man just to ensure he didn't hurt himself. "What's the best part?"

Raising his eyebrows, his lips a thin line, Sam shoved his coffee aside to reach across to the file again. He pulled out another photo of the goop and pointed to a bracelet in the middle of the mess. The second photo was of a man and Sam's fingers settled on his wrist, pointing out a bracelet he was wearing. "That guy? The man we saw stuffed into the police car this morning."

It was clear from the photos that the bracelets were the same. Sam leaned back again while Dean looked closer at the photo. "The bracelet was custom made, here in town at McKibbon's jewelers." He took a sip of coffee and waited a few moments. "So, Dean. How did the bracelet from our most recent murder suspect end up in a pile of... crud ... three houses away at the end of a trail of footprints?" Sam smiled slightly and watched the other man.

"Well-" Dean peered down at the pictures with curious eyes, pulling one closer. "That's a good question. I have some things I need to look into." Dean pulled the file closer to him, pushing the images back into a haphazard pile and closing the top. "Uh, thank you. For this. I - look don't go rushing into anything alright?"

Dean tore off a piece of paper and tugged a pen out of his pocket, scribbling his number down. "Call me if you find anything else or if anyone else-" He gestured vaguely with his hand, sliding the paper across the table to Sam with the tip of his finger. Already his mind was a few steps ahead, considering where to look first, considering the possibility of calling up his dad and asking if it sounded familiar. "Okay?"

Sam's fingers shot out and curled around Dean's wrist. "Hey, that's all I get? Don't rush into anything? I just gave you everything I had, man. Doesn't seem very fair." Sam's finger swept over the man’s rough skin as he pulled back frowning.

Still staring at his wrist in surprise, Dean forced his eyes up slowly and adjusted in the seat, soft sigh falling from his lips. "I don't have much. Only been on the ca - I've only been here a few days. I'll know more soon, hopefully. I-" He let his gaze sweep across Sam's face, watching the way his eyes locked on his and didn't waver. "Uh, I could call you? When I find out more. As of now all I can say is whatever is doing this? It's probably not going to stop. Not unless I make it."

"You didn't finish your coffee." Sam grasped his mug with both hands again and stared into Dean's eyes. Always looking for something. He was intrigued by the guy, he couldn't help it. Most times, when Sam met people who seemed to be reserved - it was like an act - they just _wanted_ the attention of someone trying to pull information out of them. With Dean, it wasn't that at all. This man had no desire what-so-ever to be known.

Holding Sam's gaze, Dean reached out and pulled his mug toward him, taking a long pull from the top and letting the burn cascade down his throat. He didn't know much about having conversations with people. In fact, there wasn't anything he was worse at. The idea of trying to strike up some sort of small talk with Sam was... a little terrifying actually. Not that Dean would admit that aloud. So he simply squared his shoulders, straightening in the seat and folded his hands around the mug on the table in front of him. "Alright."

Sam's took a sip of coffee. "Where you from?" It was a simple question and not particularly threatening from Sam's perspective, after all, everyone had to be from somewhere. Sam could have asked where the scars on the man's hands came from, what the unusual pendent was, or questioned him about the edge of the black tattoo ink that was only just visible over the top of his t-shirt collar.

Looking down at his coffee, Dean brought it to his lips once more and took a long drink before swallowing hard and lowering the mug. "Here and there." He shrugged, eyes flickering toward the front door as it opened and a few giggling teenage girls stepped through. Once more his gaze settled on Sam and his lips tilted down slightly.

Smiling, Sam looked down at the mug as his finger slid up and down the handle. Shrugging Sam tried door number two. "Where'd you get all those scars on your hands?"

"Life," Dean shrugged and brought the mug up for another drink. "It's because you're a reporter right?" When Sam just gave him curious eyes, Dean continued, "the question thing. You feel better knowing the answers." Dean lowered the mug, eyes narrowing slightly as he considered Sam.

Sam looked up, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "The answers I do get make up for the ones I've never been able to get." He let the smile spread a little. "What special person gave you the pendent, and if you tell me - I'll let you in on how I figured that out." It was a little like playing tennis but right now - it seemed pretty evenly matched.

Hand coming up to curl around the pendent, Dean's eyebrows lifted slightly and his fingers on his free hand drummed along the table surface. "My dad," he glanced down before meet Sam's eyes. "How'd you figure it out?" Generally Dean's clenched jaw, stiff shoulders, shied people away and Dean couldn't figure out why Sam was still here trying to keep the conversation going.

Sam's eyes drifted down to the pendent. "Well, you don't look like the type of guy who wears jewelry to attract attention; you're attractive enough to do that without needing to decorate yourself. The leather, right next to the knot is worn, you're been wearing it for a very long time. I would guess years." His eyes moved up to the strong line of Dean's jaw, then his eyes, they were a remarkable green. "Oh," he added, "also the leather is cracked and aged so you don't even take it off when you shower. That's pure sentiment." Grinning, Sam tilted his head slightly. "How'd I do?"

Taking a few minutes to blink at him curiously, Dean spread the fingers around his pendent, reaching up to touch the leather he hadn't even realized was so worn. "I got it when I was thirteen." For a moment his mind flickered back to that time, possibly the only time his father had given him a gift that wasn't specifically designed for hunting. He'd been so shocked and Sam was right, he'd put it on and never taken it off. Lifting his eyes, Dean frowned and shook his head. "Proud of yourself?" His lip quirked up for just a moment before dropping along with his gaze.

"What?" Sam was still smiling, his brow furrowed slightly.

Dean shook his head and released a soft puff of air that may have sounded a little like a laugh. "Got me to think about something I don't usual think about." He shrugged and drained the rest of his coffee, staring at it with the oddest sense of sadness. Then he shifted his mind to the file still in front of him and he once more slid to the edge of the booth. "Coffee's done. Guess I'll... talk to you later." Dean hesitated for a moment, eyes lifting to judge Sam's reaction.

"Anything I could help you with? I'm a quick study, bright guy, perceptive." He looked across at Dean from under his lashes. He had no clue what it was about this guy that intrigued him. It was more than the way he looked, he was interesting, and somehow it felt pretty comfortable to be around him. Sam didn't generally feel comfortable around anyone; it came from asking too many questions.

"Oh um -" Dean rubbed along the back of his neck. Dean didn't work with people. He didn't make friends. And he certainly didn't do relationships. But having someone who already knew all the facts on the case would be helpful. Then he could stop whatever _it_ was before someone else died. Eight deaths were surely enough. "I - I'm not sure you're quite ready to know what's behind these murders."

"I'm ready for anything, come on," Sam drawled. "It's a small city Dean, there's not much going on for me to write about. Besides - I'm interesting. You should get to know me." There was amusement in his eyes, yeah, he might have been flirting with the guy a little but it wouldn't be the first time he'd done it to get his way.

With a slight frown Dean nodded and pushed up. He sincerely doubt there'd be any 'getting to know' each other but Sam was a grown man, he could make his own choices. And Dean did warn him. "I have this feeling you're not gonna want to write about this in your paper." Dean shook his head and reached in his wallet to pull out a couple bills, holding up his hand when Sam moved to do the same. "It's on me."

"Thanks," Sam muttered, shoving his phone in his pocket and slipping out the booth. "So where we headin' fist? I could show you each crime scene if you want." Sam was surprised at his own willingness to give up his information; but whatever this Dean guy was, he _wasn't_ another reporter. That was the only competition that Sam was concerned about.

"Actually, I need to do some research back at my motel room." Dean glanced over at Sam as they headed toward the front door. "How easy is it for you to get a town map? I want to mark out the houses, see if there's some pattern there." He pulled his keys from his pocket, heading toward his Impala and stopping just short of the driver's door, head turning back to Sam.

Sam folded his arms and stood by the passenger door. "There's one in my bag with the locations of the bodies, the last known sighting of the victim and the suspect all marked in different colors right here." He patted his bag. Sam had been working on this case for months; he'd covered just about every angle he could think of.

Nodding in slight surprise, Dean unlocked the car and tugged the door open, leaning across to unlock the passenger side for Sam. Once the man had joined him inside, he slipped the key into the ignition and tugged his sunglasses on, half glancing at Sam before backing out of the parking spot. "So how long have you thought this was more than random killings?"

"Since the third murder." Sam pulled his notebook out of the front pouch on his bag and flipped through the first few pages. "Richard Johan, twenty two years old was murdered, supposedly, by his partner Trevor Wisdom. Partners as in, _bought-a-condo-together_ and _share-a-bed_ partners. The thing is, Wisdom was friends with Marianne Kyle - she was the second murder victim. Same as this case, the afternoon Wisdom was taken into custody for beating the love of his life to death there was a reminder on his phone to meet up with Bob Kyle about two hours after he murdered his wife." He chuckled softly. "Maybe it's like a book club or something only the all get together to plan the next murder." Shaking his head he put the notebook back in his bag.

"I don't think they did it," Dean said softly and glanced at Sam as he turned left at the next light. He could feel Sam's gaze and knew that sentence probably sounded insane. And well, this whole thing was going to sound insane because Dean had little doubt now that whatever was behind these murders wasn't human.

"When you kill someone, it can sometimes happen in a fit of rage or passion. That's not unheard of by any means. But to happen eight times? In what? A few months time? And all these people are connected. _None_ of them remembers committing the crime? It's all too-" Dean shook his head and pulled into his motel parking lot a moment later. Pulling his keys from the ignition he turned to face Sam. "I think whatever killed the first victim, killed all seven."

"Well." Sam smiled and grabbed the door handle. "I guess this is going to be more interesting than I thought then."

Pushing open the door, Sam stood and stretched as he waited for Dean to get out of the car. As they walked toward Dean's room Sam peppered him with questions. "So you think this is some kind of hypnosis? Maybe they're all taking the same medication and it's some sort of psychological break brought on by a side effect? What about the rumours of nerve agents that can make a person do something that's completely out of character?" He wasn't sure if Dean was even listening. "Aliens," he offered.

Dean couldn't help chuckling slightly as he unlocked the motel door and pushed it open, leaving Sam to close it behind as he headed directly for the table. "Probably not aliens," Dean said softly and shrugged out of his leather coat. He dropped down into the chair and flipped the file open.

"Probably not hypnosis either." He pulled out the pictures of the goo and pushed open his lap top, turning slightly to Sam as the computer loaded. "Spread out the map over here." He shifted the papers on the table, clearing space.

Tossing his bag on the end of the bed, Sam yanked the map out and unfolded it. Spreading it flat on the table with his palms he pointed. "Yellow highlighter is where the bodies were found, green highlighter is where the accused was taken into custody, pink is where the victim was last seen alive." Sam waited for Dean to notice the central space that seemed to be a clearing.

Frowning, Dean rose from his chair and moved to stand beside Sam, vaguely noting the heat radiating from the reporter's side as he leaned forward. "This clearing here," he gestured with his finger, "what's in this space?" He glanced up at Sam curiously before sweeping his fingers along the colored marks.

"Oh it's _terrific_ ," Sam said sarcastically. "Abandoned mines. That entire area is filled with them." He turned to look at Dean's face not realizing they were quite as close together as they were. Smiling for a few moments, his eyes drifted down to Dean's lips then Sam turned back to the map.

"Here, the entrance is here. I did some research once I noticed there was a pattern. The mines have been abandoned for years. A large environmental company from the next city over was supposed to be coming in to fill them with a mixture of mine tailings and a light concrete. The land has been re-zoned and they have to fill it in ordered to build on that ground."

Dean hummed thoughtfully and moved back to the chair, dropping down and pulling up the internet browser. He fell into silence as he searched through some of his best known resource guides. His eyes flickered over things rapidly, pieces struggling to fall together and straighten out.

"Did you know any of these people?" Dean asked, wondering if there was something about the personalities he could narrow down.

"Yeah, unfortunately." For the first time since he'd met Dean Sam suddenly didn't feel quite so much like talking. "You got anything to drink?" He moved to the side and sat down on one of the chairs, fingers moving softly over the map.

Considering Sam silently for a moment, Dean then pushed up and headed to the mini fridge, grabbing two beers and carrying them over. "That's all I've got, sorry." He shrugged and dropped down, twisting off the cap and tossing it onto the table.

"So which one did you know? Was the murder just as shocking and out of the blue as they appear to be or was there some underlying tension between the couple?"

"Richard and Trevor, the men and no there was no tension. They loved each other, no question in my mind." Sam swallowed and shifted uncomfortably on the chair, "Trevor's a great guy, there's no way that he would have hurt Richard, no way." Sam could feel his eyes tearing up a little, he was friends with both men and the police hadn't even let him in to see Trevor yet. Reaching for the beer he twisted off the cap and took a couple of big gulps. "Man, sorry - still a little raw."

Dean didn't do well with people who cried. Not that there was anything wrong with showing emotion. It just wasn't something he was familiar with. He grew up in a world where you didn't show those types of things. When he was a child, if you fell down and scraped your hands and knees, you got up and kept going. Tears were a sign of weakness. And Dean just... didn't know how to deal with them.

Clearing his throat, Dean shifted slightly in his chair before reaching out and laying a hand on Sam's thigh, squeezing once and withdrawing. "Sorry. If it makes you feel better, I'm not going to stop until I find the thing that did this and take care of the problem.” He looked up into Sam's eyes and smiled slightly.

Sam returned the smile. "S'okay, it happens. We lose people - that's life, yeah?" He shifted, hand sliding over the warm patch on his thigh where Dean's hand had just been.

"Anyway." Sam took a deep breath and scrubbed a hand down over his face. "Where were we? Oh yeah, anyway, there was no way that there was anything wrong between them. None. I spent a lot of time with both of them recently."

Dean definitely wasn't brain dead. And though he may sometimes be ultra focused on his most recent hunt, he didn't always miss the little details. Like this one here, Sam's mention of spending a lot of time with two gay men. Clearly it meant something and the curious part of Dean's brain kicked into action. "Oh," he nodded, pulled from his beer and turned to casually stare at his screen, leaning forward in pretense of reading the information there. "So you're, um, you're like them?" He flinched at the words, feeling a little bit ridiculous for asking such a personal question.

"Like them?" Sam barked out a warm laugh. "It’s not a disease or something. Are you asking me if I'm gay? Yeah, Dean, I'm gay." He nodded and took another drink of beer shaking his head slowly. His smile faded a little and he looked down at the map again.

"S'not a problem is it?" Sam had no idea what to expect from Dean. It was a bit sooner than Sam liked to bring up things like that.

"I didn't mean - no, it's not." Dean shook his head, glancing at Sam for a moment before looking back at the screen. There really wasn't a problem with Sam being gay, why should it matter? But Dean couldn't ignore that little flicker of uncertainty that always seemed to spark in his mind when he thought about _those_ things.

Luckily, something on the screen caught Dean’s attention before he could lose himself in his thoughts and he blew out a low breath. "I think... I know what we're after."


	2. Chapter 2

On the rare occasions Dean actually met up with his father, they spent most of the time talking about hunts. It wasn't too much of a surprise since it was the only thing they ever did. His dad used to ask if he'd met any girls along the way, but that stopped after year two.

A few years back, John had told Dean about a hunt where the creature he pursued could shift into any other human by shedding his skin. Dean had been interested because he never thought such a thing existed and the very idea was a little disturbing. A creature like that could do some serious damage. Why Dean hadn't put the pieces together before was beyond him. Now though, it made sense.

"A shape shifter?" Sam was absolutely certain he'd never heard any more ludicrous in his life; he pushed up from the table. "A shape shifter, as in late-night-movie, monster of the week kind of shapeshifter? What did you say you do for a living, Dean?"

"I didn't." Dean shook his head, reclining back in his seat with his beer. He was used to these types of conversations. People weren't always ready to believe the unknown and more often than not they went right on believing it didn't exist, no matter what they may have seen. "Trust me; I know what I'm talking about. Do I look like the kind of guy who would make up this shit?" He levelled his eyes on Sam, appealing to his apparently well honed skill of reading people.

"No," Sam sat back down in the chair again, "You don't." He tugged on the collar of his t-shirt and then reached out for what was left of his beer. "Okay, so a shape shifter. What are the signs?" The idea that _things that go bump in the night_ might be real didn't appeal much to Sam. It actually made him feel damn uncomfortable. "And I don't understand, what's it got to do with the murders?" Sam's eyebrows lifted slightly. "It's-" realization dawned on Sam's face. "It's changing into the people who are being arrested or is that it?"

Dean actually smiled at how quick Sam had put it together. Though it seemed completely obvious to him, dealing with the idea of something not exactly common place made it harder to find the logic. "Exactly. My guess is, it's jealous. Sees the happy couple, decides it's going to ruin that. So it waits until one is gone, changes into the other and well... kills. That goo you found was its skin. So-" Dean slid forward once more and peered at the screen. "It's probably living in the mines you were talking about, which is why things seem to center around there. Best place for an escape. Now all I have to do is find it and kill it and that'll take care of the problem."

"All _you_ have to do?" Sam put the empty beer bottle on the table. "Call me crazy but I don't think you should be trying to take this thing on by yourself." Sam slid closer to the table. "This thing has taken on a significant amount of people in the last little while and it seems to be doing a damn good job of racking up the body count."

"I appreciate your concern Sam, but this is what I _do_. I can handle it." Dean shook his head, slight smirk on his face before he finished off his beer and set it on the table.

After a moment to check known weaknesses on the website, he pushed up and hooked his fingers around the collar of his coat, dragging it up and slipping his arms inside. "You'll just be more of a- look I'll just be forced to keep an eye on you if you go with me. So really, it's better if I go alone. I've been trained how to handle these types of situations." Dean crossed to his duffel bag and dragged it up to his bed, sorting through for anything silver he might have.

"I can always go there by myself." Sam pushed up from the table and pulled his jacket back on. "Can you at least give me a ride back to my truck?" Sam was a bit pissed off; Dean wouldn't even have figured this out so quickly if he hadn't been working with all of Sam's material. Sam folded up the map and put it back in his bag, then slung it across his shoulder.

With a soft sigh, Dean caved. "Alright. Fine. You can go with me. But you let me handle the fighting okay?" He understood that sometimes people needed to see things for themselves, especially when they had known a victim.

And Sam didn't seem like a complete light weight, in fact, he had fairly defined muscles along his arms that indicated he probably worked out. And he most likely knew the mines, which would be valuable.

"Here." Dean handed Sam a knife. "It's silver. That's _only_ for dire situations okay?"

"I know what classifies as a dire situation in my world." Sam took the knife and flipped it in his hand. "What is dire in yours?" He wasn't completely unused to weapons; his folks had taken him hunting sometimes when he was growing up. He tucked the knife in his pocket. "Mine's smaller than yours." He blinked over at Dean.

"That's 'cause I'm the one who's going to kill it," Dean shook his head, heading for the door. Pausing with his hand on the door knob, he glanced back at Sam. "And I'll let you know if a dire circumstance comes up," with that he pulled the door back and stepped out.

Blowing out a breath Sam followed Dean back outside.

"Stop fidgeting," Dean said under his breath and over his shoulder as they moved forward into the dark mine shaft, flash light scanning across the walls for any signs of a secret tunnel or alcove. He was more nervous then he would normally be, acutely aware of the man following just inches behind him. If his dad were around he'd probably have berated Dean for taking someone with him, despite the reasons. Just another life he was risking. Dean made a mental note to leave Sam out of this section of the story, should he ever tell it to his father.

"There," he jerked his chin toward a soft glow coming from an arched doorway ten feet from them. "Alright, you stick back in the shadows. Be my second set of eyes. And look Sam," Dean turned toward him, flipping off his flashlight and tucking it in his coat pocket. "If I tell you to run, you do it, you hear? You run and get back to my motel room. In my bag you'll find a book with the number for John. You call him and let him know I'm in trouble. Clear?"

"Ten-four," Sam grunted out quietly, "and I'm not fidgeting, I'm clinging." He smiled even though he knew Dean couldn't see him in the dark. "Most of my work isn't subterranean."

Actually, Sam was scared shitless. He was pretty good at hiding things like that; it came with the territory of being a newly hired reporter. He was spending a lot of time _trying_ to appear to be in control of things. It was hard to compete with all the old boys’ club members.

"You get used to it." Dean shrugged and tried to ignore the heat rolling off Sam's body and directly along his back as they moved forward. It was certainly weird to have someone else with him but not completely unpleasant. Especially since he really had very little idea what he was up against.

They moved forward in the darkness, stopping a foot or so from the door. Dean could hear the sounds of bones crunching inside the room and he scrunched up his face, trying to judge how near or far the creature may be from them.

"Stay here," Dean's hand fell back along Sam's leg, holding him there for a moment. He glanced over his shoulder at the man's face, barely visible in the soft glow from the room. "Hopefully I'll be right back." Dean glanced down, realizing his hand was pretty much inches from the man's crotch, and withdrew quickly, faint coloring appearing on his cheeks.

"S'okay, I don't bite." Sam bit his lip to stop from making any noise as he felt the urge to laugh. "Be careful." He pressed his palm against Dean's back briefly. _Jesus_ he hoped nothing bad happened to Dean because he wasn't entirely sure that he would know what to do if he had to intervene. He couldn't see much up ahead of them, but he could sense the tension rolling off Dean's body and he _really_ didn't like the sound of the thing... eating.

Nodding slowly, Dean took a quick breath before creeping forward into the room. The creature was in the form of a man, dark skin and even darker hair that hung around his shoulders in dreadlocks. He didn't look familiar so Dean figured it had to either be his next murderer or just a random appearance he chose in his down time.

The creature’s back was to Dean and he was hunched down, hands raised to his mouth. Dean gripped the knife tightly in his hand, walking forward with slow, cautious steps. He probably could have snuck up on him completely if it wasn't for the bone on the ground he hadn't seen.

It rolled and thudded loudly against the stone floor, echoing around them. Dean stiffened at the same moment the creature did, turning its head slowly to peer at him with narrowed eyes. In a flash it was across the room, struggling against Dean's raised arms. He managed a swipe across its side with the knife and it recoiled and hissed before redoubling its efforts.

Dean grunted as a fist connected with his stomach, breath exiting in a whoosh. As he fell forward he got another blade swipe across the creature's leg, causing it to jump back and growl before darting for the door. "Sam! Stop it!" Dean yelled, already forcing himself up and lurching after it.

Sam launched himself at the creature from where he was crouched behind an old mine cart. They collided together with such an impact that Sam's breath was knocked out of him for a few moments. Managing to get a fistful of the creature's clothing Sam rolled sideways and tried to get on top of it. Obviously, the thing knew that it was fighting for its life because it seemed a hell of a lot stronger than Sam was. The next thing Sam knew, the breath was shooting out of his lungs again as his back was slammed into the wall behind him. "Dean-" he grunted out.

The thing must of underestimated how quickly Dean could recover from the blow to the stomach because it left its back exposed as it slammed Sam against the wall and that was all the opening Dean needed. Lurching forward, he wrapped his arm roughly around its neck and pulled it back, jerking his other arm forward and slamming the blade into its heart, all the way to the hilt.

He held it there, struggling with the creature as it twisted and jerked. As it slowly stopped moving Dean let it drop to the ground pulling out his blade and bending to wipe off the blood on the creatures shirt. Once the weapon was safely tucked away he moved forward to Sam, laying a hand on his shoulder. "You okay?"

"Holy shit," Sam hissed as he struggled to sit up. He grabbed a hold of Dean's arm and pulled himself up so he could lean against the wall. "That... was intense." He huffed out a short laugh and squeezed Dean's arm. "You do this shit all the time?" He groaned as he pushed up to his full height, "bastard knocked the wind right outta me." Realizing he was still holding on to Dean he let his hand fall and looked the man up and down, "You okay?"

Dean's heart was slowly returning to its normal rate and he nodded, clearing his throat as he shifted from foot to foot. "Yeah, probably gonna have a bruise but nothing major." He rubbed at his stomach for a moment before glancing down at the lifeless creature. "C'mon, let's get outta here." He pulled out his flashlight once more. "How safe do you think it is there? Think anyone will find it?"

"The whole place is scheduled to be filled by the contractors in less than a week so I'd say it's not much to worry about wouldn't you?" Sam surprised himself by laughing again, "Holy shit man, you nailed its ass."

Still, he stepped away from the creature. As he moved, he realized that something strange was happening to the body and he stepped back slowly. "Dean? Is it supposed to do that?" It looked like that damn thing was melting.

Glancing down, Dean shrugged. "Never seen one killed before but I'd assume so. It doesn't really have a shape you know? Hence, the name shape shifter. So when it's dead it can't use its powers to hold that shape. It returns to... whatever the hell it was originally."

Dean scrunched up his face and looked away. "Gross." He shook his head and gestured down the tunnel. "Let's get out of here, that thing reeks."

Chuckling Sam patted Dean hard on the back. "Man, that was awesome. You must really enjoy this job." Sam had a bit of a bounce to his step; he wasn't entirely sure what to do with all the adrenaline that was coursing through his system. "Let's go back to the motel and get ourselves a couple of those beers you have."

"Alright." Dean nodded, glancing over at Sam oddly. He couldn't ever remember a time being so excited after killing something. Maybe it was just too much second nature to him. After all, Dean helped his dad on their first until when he was nine years old. Things like that? They just become a part of you after so long.

But he didn't object to the idea of spending some more time with Sam, even if it meant he might have to dodge around some more questions. Generally Dean didn't spend time with people, but there was something about Sam. Something different that he couldn't put his finger on. He just didn't get that panicky, 'no clue what to do' feeling around Sam and that was nice.

Sam felt a bit like he was high. Not only did he help to figure out what the problem was, he helped to get rid of the thing. This was definitely not going to fall into the category of questions that went unanswered and that made Sam happy. He moved around Dean almost in circles while they made their way out of the mine, almost made himself dizzy once.

By the time they got to Dean's car the man was wondering what he'd gotten himself into. Sam questioned Dean as they drove back to the Motel and Dean did his level best to provide him with some non-committal answers. Sam didn't give up easily. Once they were safely inside the motel room Sam was questioning Dean again about how he figured out how to kill the shape shifter; wondering aloud if there were certain websites that he went too for information.

"Jesus, do you always talk this much?" Dean asked in answer to Sam's question, shaking his head with a laugh. He tugged off his coat and laid it across the back of the chair before going to the mini fridge and getting them each a beer. Handing Sam's to him, he nodded. "I have certain places I go to for research. They're things you learn with time. Just like you do your research or whatever for your article. When I need information, I get it."

"How do you learn to hunt though? I mean you can't just look this shit up and know that it works can you? Do you hang out with other hunters sometimes? Dude, are vampires real? I always thought they were pretty sexy." He walked over to Dean and held up his beer bottle, "Cheers?"

Dean's eyebrows lifted as he tapped his bottle to Sam's. "Look Sam, I get that you're hyped up on this. But don't... don't go thinking this is some fun gig. People die. Lots of people. By the time-"

Dean sighed heavily and shook his head. "It's just not all it's cracked up to be okay? And yes, vampires are real. And no they're not sexy. They'll kill you before you even have the chance to scream out for help so. You know, it's not like that sparkly vampire crap or whatever. They don't seduce you and make you their love bitch." Dean shook his head and pulled a long drink from the bottle, wiping off the remaining liquid with the back of his hand.

"Either way, it's a more interesting job than mine. Most of the stuff that I write about doesn't _have_ a solution." He noticed some of the goo on Dean's cheek and reached up without even thinking to wipe it away. The man's skin was softer than he expected. "Bits of shape shifter." He shrugged and let his hand slide down Dean's cheek, then dragged his thumb across Dean's bottom lip.

Heat flared through Dean, unexpected and quite sudden. No one had ever... well, frankly Dean didn't have much experience with people touching him. Correction, Dean didn't have _any_ experience with people touching him. He'd never had the time when he was around his father. And after, it had just never seemed like a priority. Not to mention the fact that Dean had a tendency to look at members of the same sex more than the opposite and exposing himself to a partner in such a vulnerable state - it had never seemed like a good idea.

But now, he could feel the smooth pad of Sam's thumb on his lips and his knees felt a little weak, his breath hitched, and he looked up into Sam's eyes and swallowed hard.

Sam smiled slightly when Dean didn't move away; now his heart was racing for a different reason. His eyes locked with Dean's, they really were a beautiful color. Sam slid his hand back along Dean's cheek and curled his fingers around the back of his neck. His skin was warm and little thrills shot up Sam's arm mingling with the excitement from the hunt earlier and he gasped then leaned forward quickly to capture Dean's mouth with his.

It was a little awkward in the beginning but then first kisses almost always were, Sam tugged Dean closer and moved his lips back and forth over the hunter's. As his lips parted, his tongue slipped warm and slick across Dean's lips then pushed into his mouth.

For a moment all he could feel were soft lips, and then a _tongue_ , and Dean nearly skidded back across the room, moving so quickly he almost fell onto his bed. "I. You - but I..." Dean fumbled over the words.

His heart was racing so face in his chest it almost hurt and his lips tingled, more pleasant than anything he'd ever felt. Dean could feel the warmth across his cheeks and he shook his head, trying to get his mind to stop reeling. "I can't." He swallowed thickly and turned away from Sam, curling his fingers into fists.

"Oh." Sam took a step back, heart still racing, "I - you with someone?" Of course, the guy was with someone, probably some woman. _Oh God._

"Jesus Dean, I'm sorry - you're straight." Sam put his beer down on the table, "I ... thought –“ Great, way to make a good impression Sam. Normally, he wouldn't have even gotten that caught up in the moment, but the hunt, and then Dean's eyes and Sam was _sure_ that for the first few moments of the kiss he wasn't in it alone.

Shaking his head roughly, Dean's throat clenched around the words as he forced them out. "N-no. I'm not. There's no one else. And I -" He tried swallowing a few times, remembering the beer still clutched in his grasp he lifted it to his lips and drained half in one long swallow.

Sighing slowly, he turned toward Sam and looked up at him. "It's not that I don't... it's just I've-" He could still feel that heat and he didn't really know how to say the reason _why_. "I've never uh, kissed-"

Sam tilted his head a little to the side, "a man?" He grimaced. It wasn't his usual routine to be the guy who kissed straight guys. Hell - Sam didn't spend that much time kissing anyone, he wasn't into the bar scene and the city was pretty small for someone with a job that kept him in the public eye. He frowned, his hand lifting toward Dean then dropping to his side. "I shouldn't have done that."

"No." Dean sighed and finished off his beer, moving to the side to set it on top of the mini fridge and reach in for another. "I've never kissed... anyone." He kept his eyes turned down as he twisted off the cap of the beer and took a long pull.

"Oh." Sam's eyes were locked on Dean's profile and his hand moved blindly for his beer beside him on the table. "Oh." He had no clue what to say next which was pretty unusual for him.

Sam was the chatty guy, the one who didn't try to filter his thoughts as they came spewing out of his mouth. He took a sip of beer once he finally managed to find it and watched Dean pace back and forth a few times. "Okay, so -" swallowing, he watched a muscle in Dean's jaw twitching, "Did you like it?"

Stopping in his tracks, Dean turned slightly to Sam and ran his palm against his thigh. "I. Yes," he nodded and cleared his throat, dropping his eyes to sweep across the carpet. "It was good. Until you know, the freak out," Dean mumbled and chuckled nervously, reaching up to scratch absently at the back of his neck. He certainly wasn't accustomed to feeling so uncertain about something, which was probably why he'd yet to kiss anyone in the first place.

Smiling, Sam took a step closer. "Okay then, I can stay now that I know you're not going to take me out at the knees for touching you." Blowing out a breath he took another sip of beer and walked over to sit on the edge of Dean's bed. "You ever wanna do it again, you'll let me know?" He blinked up at Dean from under his bangs. "Or. I could, you know, just surprise you again. Sometime." He waited until he found Dean's gaze before smiling.

Taking a few tentative steps forward, Dean forced himself to close the distance and he sat beside Sam on the edge of the bed, not close enough to be touching, but closer than the average person might.

"I, might like that. The again thing," Dean nodded, glancing at Sam's legs before lifting his gaze to meet Sam's. Catching his lower lip between his teeth, Dean considered him quietly for a moment before reaching a slightly shaking hand forward and brushing a strand of Sam's hair out of his eyes. He withdrew his hand almost immediately and looked away.

Dean's fingers left warmth and tingle in their wake as they ghosted across Sam's forehead. "The- the I should surprise you again... thing?" Sam shifted a little closer until he could feel the warmth from Dean's thigh. He wasn't sure but it felt like the man was shaking.

"Don't think I could do it myself," Dean mumbled and dragged his tongue across his lips. All of this felt so different from everything else he was used too. The rush of heat coursing through him from the tiniest touches. Any touches at all really. It was never something Dean had experienced and yet, he _wanted_ it.

In all his years Dean could never remember wanting this before, whether that was because no one had ever seemed worth it or because he'd never been given the opportunity, he didn't know. But now he was being handed his chance, with someone that had proved to be a trusted companion. Dean swallowed, eyes fixing on Sam's lips.

Sam smiled warmly, eyebrows dipping together. Reaching up he rested his hand on the side of Dean's neck and rubbed his thumb along the strong line of the other man's jaw. It was so quiet in the room he could hear the rasp of flesh over stubble. Letting himself fall forward a little he rested his cheek against Dean's and rubbed slowly, the rough stubble sending little thrills of pleasure through Sam's body.

Sam slid his free hand around so he could press it against the small of Dean's back. The heat radiating off the body even through his shirt was startling; Sam's hand pressed harder. Pulling back slightly he kissed the corner of Dean's mouth, inhaling the scent of him; leather, canvas, the dirt and oil from the mine.

Running his lips across Dean's Sam's fingers pressed gently into the man's neck, feeling the tense muscles cording under his touch. "Relax," he whispered against Dean's mouth, breath mingling.

Smiling softly as he felt Dean's body relax slightly, Sam pressed their lips together, slanting his mouth over Dean's and rubbing his lips back and forth. Dry, warm, patient kisses for a few minutes seemed to calm Dean's shaking and Sam's lips parted and he sucked Dean's bottom lip into his mouth encouraging the man to open his lips.

 _Jesus Christ_. This was all so much _more_ than Dean anticipated. Feeling the warm gentle glide of Sam's lips along his, the hand on his neck, the hand low on his back, Dean was consumed with that torn feeling of too much and not enough all at once.

By the time Sam was sucking on his lower lip, Dean almost felt it was natural to let his mouth fall open more. It's not like Dean didn't know all about kissing, he wasn't stupid. But watching it and _feeling_ it were certainly two different matters. He could feel Sam's tongue shifting along his lip and Dean tentatively slipped his own tongue forward, grazing along Sam's for a moment before pulling back.

Sam moaned softly into Dean's mouth then chased the other man's tongue with his, tangling them together for a few moments then pulling back as his body trembled. The kiss was pretty damn amazing, and Sam actually found it hard to believe that Dean had never kissed anyone.

He broke the kiss finally, his breath coming a little faster, a little harder and rested his cheek against Dean's once more. "That was... I liked that," he whispered as his fingers moved in small circles on Dean's back slipping quickly under the edge of the material and grazing over searing flesh.

Dean gasped slightly at the touch on his skin and nodded, pulling in the lingering taste of Sam on his lips. "Y-yeah it was really good." He nodded again, sucking in a deep breath.

After another moment of hesitation he reached out and laid his hand slowly on the middle of Sam's thigh, squeezing the muscle and releasing. "Maybe, we could try again," he asked softly. Dean’s eyes trailed up from his hand on Sam's thigh, across the broad expanse of his chest, along the curve of his neck and lingered for just a moment on slightly swollen lips before meeting Sam's gaze.

Letting his hand fall against Dean's, Sam squeezed both their hands into his own thigh and licked his lips. "Oh. Okay." His eyes traveled down to Dean's lips, now wet, shining slightly in the dimly lit room. Sam's blood was racing through his veins. Sliding impossibly closer Sam's lips met with Dean's again. His tongue slid past Dean's lips more urgently, sweeping around the other man's mouth, tasting him, learning the curves, the lines. He slid his hand up Dean's back, over the smooth flesh, over the scars, and Sam moaned softly again.

This time Dean felt more confident in the kiss and he pushed his tongue along Sam's, lifting his hand to cup along the man's jaw line and back into his hair. Sam's moan washed over him, only intensifying the desire and he echoed the noise, a little surprised by how deep it sounded. Shifting into the kiss, he sucked Sam's tongue eagerly, the hand on Sam's thigh sliding up and back down as he moaned again.

Sam couldn't help the way his fingernails dragged down Dean's shoulder blades, nor could he help rather suddenly pushing Dean back on to the bed, even though it made him panic a little and pull back. "I. I'm sorry, is this okay?" Sam's body was tingling everywhere and maybe he wanted to rush it a little but sitting on the end of the _damn_ bed was not comfortable. "I. I just want us to be more comfortable." He could feel a flush creeping up his neck.

Dean shifted back on the bed, hooking his fingers in Sam's shirt and dragging him with him. "It's okay," Dean breathed, words falling in a puff of air between them before he pushed up and sealed his lips with Sam's once more. He could feel the heat of the man down the line of his body, so intense it seemed to soak through his clothing and consume him.

Dean moaned into Sam's mouth, sliding his hands down Sam's chest. For a moment his fingers lingered along the hem of the shirt before slipping under the fabric, just enough to graze along burning skin and lift up, hovering close enough to still feel the heat of him.

Dean was all muscles, hard and firm everywhere. Sam's mouth burned against the other man's, wet and slick. He let one hand settle on Dean's hip and the other snaked under Dean's neck and curled up over his head. "S'good," he mumbled then licked his way deep into Dean's mouth.

Dean's hands moving over his chest sent waves of goose bumps down his body, his hips jolted forward into Dean's. _Jesus_ it was intense, the feeling of Dean's hands on his skin. Sam had never felt anything quite like it. His breath caught in his chest and he tore himself away from Dean long enough to yank his own t-shirt up over his head. He wanted Dean's touch everywhere, wanted to give him as much room as he needed. It was _crazy_. They'd known each other for hours and he wanted ... he _wanted_. Stretching his body out once more against Dean's, Sam sighed. "Okay?" His voice was a little husky, soft.

Staring down at the hard lines of Sam's chest, Dean slowly shook his head. "No," he pushed up and curled his fingers under the hem of his shirt, tugging it off and throwing it across the room before settling back beside him. "Now it's okay," he smiled, feeling oddly shy about the whole thing and shifted forward.

Dean's hand settled on Sam's abs, pressing down firmly and dragging slowly up. It was odd but definitely not unpleasant, to touch another man this way. He'd never given much thought to what places people might enjoy being touched the most but he had some guesses. Sam seemed to respond to any place his fingers grazed so he worked his way along the skin slowly, watching his movements with intent fixation.

Sam's muscles quivered under Dean's palm, his hand was rough, scarred, calloused from the grip on his gun. Sam shuddered and slithered down Dean's body, lips sliding down the other man's neck, he sucked hard on Dean's skin then moved his lips along his collar bone, nipping and licking.

His hands came alive against Dean's body, his chest, his stomach; all the while he licked away the salty sweat from Dean's skin. _God_. Sam was hard and aching and trying not to rock against Dean's thigh. Somewhere in the back of his lust-addled brain he kept thinking that Dean had never done this before. Never felt this with someone.

Sam's lips passed over a hard nub of flesh and he sucked Dean's nipple into his mouth, he rolled it back and forth between his teeth, fingers gliding down the hunter's side, over his waist, slipping just under the edge of his waist band.

Dean couldn't keep his body from arching up into Sam's touch, gasp following a moan from his lips as he writhed beneath the man.

"Oh Christ," he groaned when Sam's mouth worked at his nipple, his head falling back hard into the bed.

How he had gone this many years without feeling _this_ was beyond him. Sam's lips were intoxicating, the gentle touch of fingers even more so, and he wanted that feeling _everywhere_. Dean couldn’t remember a time he was so achingly hard before and he moved his hips up, desperate enough for friction that even the simple squeeze of his jeans felt good. "Jesus Sam," his fingers tangled in Sam's hair, falling there as if they knew it was precisely where they belonged.

The sound of Dean's voice rumbling deep in his chest vibrated out like an earthquake, Sam could feel it everywhere. He mouthed his way across Dean's chest to tease his other nipple with his tongue as his hand moved slowly along the top of Dean's pants. Fingers splayed wide, Sam slid his hand over the zipper on the jeans, moaning as he pressed his palm against the hard bulge. He bit down on Dean’s nipple, sucking it hard into his mouth.

Just the knowledge that Sam's hand was over him, the feel over it burning through denim into him, was enough to send Dean hurtling dangerously close to that edge. His blood was coursing through his veins so fast it rushed in his ears, his heart was pounding so loud it was a wonder Sam couldn't actually feel it.

Dean was almost dizzy with sensation as his fingers tightened and his hips rocked up into Sam's hand. Another moan worked its way through him and Dean squeezed his eyes shut, pulling in a deep and shaky breath in an attempt to calm the spiralling crashes of desire consuming him.

Sam ran his hand up and down that hard line, pressing his fingers into the denim as his mouth worked its way back across Dean's chest and up to his Adam's apple. He sucked on it, marking the flesh, the drew his tongue all the way up the side of Dean's neck so he could place a trail of open mouthed kisses back down his jaw. Then lips, soft, silken, swollen and hot, Sam pressed their lips together, slanting his head to deepen the kiss as he rubbed his palm heavy and slow against Dean's crotch.

Dean moaned instantly into the kiss, tongue thrusting up against Sam's mouth as his hips rolled forward into Sam's hand over and over. His own free hand slid down the man's body, under his stretched out arm and down his side. It was impossible to reach his crotch at this angle so he settled for sliding fingers slowly over his ass, curling into the muscle and squeezing roughly. When this seemed to please Sam, Dean repeated the action, rolling the flesh through denim before bringing his fingers up and - in a flash of bravado he was quite unprepared for - shoving roughly under denim and cotton. Sam's ass burned almost instantly against his palm and Dean once more squeezed and massaged, fingers spreading out to splay across the skin.

Sam's back arched as Dean's fingers dug into the sensitive skin on his ass then he collapsed back against him again hand fumbling with the button and zipper on the other man's pants. Tugging, pulling he managed to pull them open, fingers slipping down under the soft cotton of Dean's boxers and then sliding along the heat of his shaft. He moaned and thrust his tongue hard past Dean's lips running it over the top of his mouth.

Thumb grazing over the head of Dean's cock, Sam felt the slick feel of precome beading there. He groaned, mouth frantically sliding against Dean's as his long cool fingers wrapped around the man's swollen, heavy cock.

Dean had to break the kiss to suck in a large lung full of air. His mind chanted a steady _his hand on me, his hand on me_ and Dean didn't know if he wanted to moan or scream or demand _more_ because it was the best thing he'd ever felt.

Hips arching up into Sam's touch, he pulled his hand out of Sam's pants and tugged on the denim, rolling Sam to his side and groaning when the man's hand tugged sharply on his cock before releasing. "Wanna touch," he growled, voice deeper then he'd ever heard it, his fingers shifted to Sam's waist band and struggled with the button and zipper until he was dipping beneath cotton, shoving down with his wrist.

Another gasp left his lips as Sam managed to work his arm around Dean's and Dean's fingers curled around the thick, heavy weight of Sam's cock. Dean let his head fall into the curve of Sam's neck and he mouthed the flesh as he stroked upwards.

“ _Jesus_ Dean." Sam's mouth fell open as he groaned out the words. His body was alive, thrumming with lust; he found his grasp on Dean's cock once more. The flesh was warm, rigid, alive and Sam slid his palm up and down, stroking Dean, letting his thumb sweep over the sensitive head, nail running along the sensitive slit.

His hips rolled continuously, long slow circles, thrusting his rigid shaft through Dean's grasp as his free hand curled over Dean's head, pressing his mouth _hard_ against Sam's neck. He murmured Dean's name over and over until it no longer made sense and the sounds that came out of his mouth were simply moans and sighs. He worked Dean's cock, the way he loved to be touched, sliding his hand to match the rhythm of his own hips.

At this point there was little chance that Dean was going to be able to hold on much longer. Sam's hips were thrusting up into his hand and Sam's hand was working his flesh. Everything was just _Sam_ and Dean could feel his orgasm tingling through him, shooting along his veins at lightning speed.

His teeth sank down into Sam's neck for a moment before he sucked greedily on the area, thrusting up into Sam's hand rapidly. Then everything in him was tightening, muscles pulling together, heat radiating off him in waves and Dean moaned Sam's name long and heavy as his orgasm hit.

His hips jerked shakily into Sam's hand, his own hand working rapidly on Sam's cock, thumb constantly pressing down into the head. Dean raised his head and crushed his lips against Sam's as the last of his orgasm spilled between them.

Sam's heart lurched in his chest as his balls drew up tight against his body. His hips thrust forward, once, Dean's voice wrapped around him, the sound of his name thick and deep rolling off Dean's tongue. Sam's orgasm flew through his body, jolted his hips forward and he came. His aching cock throbbed then pulsed out his release, hot jets covering Dean's hand.

Sam moaned Dean's name into their kiss, tongue thrusting forward with each pulse of his cock. His fingers slid slower on Dean's shaft as the other man worked through his orgasm, his hips gradually stilling even as Sam's did. Sam's mouth was swollen, bruised, aching with the sweetness of Dean's kisses and yet he couldn't stop. His tongue moved slowly along the other man's lips and his eyes fluttered closed. "Jesus, Dean..."

"Yeah," Dean agreed, voice slightly hoarse. His body was shaking slightly and he felt almost hyperaware of every little thing. The pungent smell of their come mixing together, the still burning heat radiating from Sam, the way his lips felt so used and swollen it could have hurt if it didn't feel so damn good.

Dean sighed heavily as he fell onto his back on the bed, arm flopping uselessly to the spot beside him. Already his heart was returning to its normal pace, his lungs were no longer working over time, and Dean could feel sleep tugging at his eye lids but there was something else beneath the surface that he just couldn't put a finger on.

Sam shivered a little, cold now Dean's body wasn't pressed up against his. "I. You probably want me to go." His voice was quiet. Opening his eyes, he ran his gaze over Dean's flushed cheeks, down across his cheek. He looked so _fucking_ good like that, jeans still partially on, flesh ruddy and used. Sam cleared his throat.

Swallowing, Dean pushed up slightly and tucked himself back in his pants, face scrunching as he touched the sticky remnants of his come along his lowers abs. "Your uh, truck. It's not here," he observed, head tilting to the side slightly.

Dean didn't have any idea what the standard sort of procedure was for moments like these. Was Sam used to having incredibly fucking hot hand jobs with near strangers then being on his way? God he hoped not. And not because it made him insanely fucking jealous to think about. "I um, do you want to? Go, I mean."

Sam wiped his hand on his jeans then ran it through is hair, scratching his scalp. "I don't. I mean, I've never done this kind of thing - well - I have but I usually know-" his eyes widened and he laughed softly. "I could stay, if that's okay with you." He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, could still taste Dean and felt something twitch and twist deep inside his chest.

Dean weighed the pros and cons quickly in his mind. Having Sam with him over night? It probably wasn't the smartest idea. It might make some kind of connection that could be bad later on. But then, there was already a pretty major connection after what they'd just shared so that argument didn't work.

And really, Dean's legs felt a bit like jello and it seemed pretty unlikely that he'd feel up to driving Sam to his truck any time soon. Making him walk would just be cruel and Dean didn't like being unnecessarily cruel. "Okay," he nodded and slid back on the bed, leaning against a pillow.

"Wanna order a pizza or something?" He tried to smile over at Sam, ignoring the feelings of nerves and insecurity curling through him.

Chuckling, Sam pushed himself up slightly and leaned down to kiss the corner of Dean's mouth. "Yeah, my wallets in my bag - order one - I'm gonna go clean up a bit." Sliding to the edge of the bed, Sam stood and moved quickly into the bathroom. He closed the door behind him and turned the taps on, running his hands under the warm water. It had been an insane day, what with the hunt, solving the murders, finding out that _monsters_ were real... and this... Dean. He smiled at himself in the mirror. Dean, he liked. Dean, he liked a lot.

Dean watched the bathroom door close before moving to his cell phone, calling information and getting the number for the nearest pizza place. The moment he flipped the device closed after placing his order, it rang in his palm. Dean blinked, staring at the flash of his dad's name across the caller ID. The man had this tendency to call at the moments Dean wanted to talk to him least. Or well, this was really the only time that applied but still, awful timing. "Uh, hello?" He said softly in the phone, eyes trailing over to the bathroom door.

"Dean? Why are you whispering?"

His voice was instant concern and Dean sighed, shaking his head. "Kind of a bad time dad. Can I call you back later?"

"Bad ti- oh. _Oh_." Dean wanted to groan as the realization washed through his father's tone. "You got a girl with you Dean? Way to go son, you know I was beginning to wonder about you."

Dean's shoulders tensed. "Beginning to wonder _what_ dad?"

"Well you know, you never talked about any girls. I was starting to think you might be... well doesn’t matter. Don't let me disturb you anymore. Call me tomorrow."

The line clicked dead and Dean pulled it away from his ear, staring down at it in slight shock. This day. Seriously. Could things get any more bizarre? And to think if his dad had simply stayed on the phone a few minutes longer Dean would probably have told him it wasn't a _girl_ he was with. Not a girl at _all_. Just Sam. Smooth, tan skin, silky brown hair, liquid hazel eyes... Sam. _Fuck_ this wasn't good. Dean didn't like the thoughts circling through his mind. If he didn't do something about them soon then he was probably going to snap and that wasn't too good either.

Luckily the door opened in the next moment and he looked up, momentarily dazed by Sam's blinding smile. "Uh, pizza's on the way. Hope you like pepperoni." He cleared his throat and headed for the mini fridge. Beer was definitely a priority.

"Meat is good." Sam brushed his lips across Dean's forehead, breathing in the man's scent one more time. "Thanks for letting me stay, I'm not much of a one night stand kinda guy - wasn't quite sure how this was supposed to work." He felt a bit like he was babbling again, but Dean's face seemed to have brightened a little. Sam just smiled shyly and went to get a beer. "Guess I owe you some beer... some time." He grinned.

"Guess so," Dean nodded, reaching up to touch at the spot Sam's lips had lingered on his forehead. That odd churning in his heart was back and Dean really hoped the pizza was on its way because he'd rather not think about things.


	3. Chapter 3

When Dean woke it was to the feel of a body pressed along his like a hot sticky second skin, molded into his flesh head to toe. Things filtered back pretty quickly. Shape shifter, beer, first kiss, first touches, _Sam_.

It was a surreal sort of memory that had heat bubbling in the pit of his stomach. Dean dragged his tongue across his lips, frowning at the lingering taste of pepperoni pizza and stale beer. There may be the possibility that they drank a fraction too much last night. But at least they didn't do anything when they were closer to drunk then not. Well, besides kissing. Dean really enjoyed kissing.

Peeling himself away from Sam, Dean shivered slightly at the cool air that bathed across his skin. His boxers felt uncomfortably tight and he took a moment to breathe deeply, calm his nerves, before he pushed up and headed toward the bathroom. He got the shower running as he emptied his bladder.

Stepping under the spray, Dean leaned slightly against the shower tile and pulled in a shaky breath. Dean knew he needed to go soon. The longer he lingered the more dangerous it was. Not because Sam would do him any harm... simply because Dean was fully capable of doing himself harm however unintentionally where the man was concerned. Just the very fact that he didn't _want_ to go was a sure sign.

Dean stepped out of the shower a few minutes later, towelling off his hair before wrapping the material around his waist and heading back into the main room. Sam was awake now, sitting on the edge of the bed and scrubbing at his hair and Dean's lips twitched up in a faint smile. "Mornin', sleep well?" He asked, voice still slightly thick and rich from sleep.

Sam felt a little uncomfortable under Dean's gaze and blushed slightly. "I did, didn't kick you in my sleep did I?" Sam worried his bottom lip between his teeth and looked up at Dean. Yesterday felt like a bit of a blur as though they had moved through it in fast forward. The crime scene, Dean, the hunt, _kissing_.

Sam's eyes darted back up to Dean's face. "I'll just get my act together and get out of your way." He hadn't intended to end up in the man's motel room when his morning had started, nor when they hooked up to take out the creature, nor when he'd come back to Dean's room.

Actually, Sam wasn't quite sure how things had progressed as quickly as they had, except that somewhere in his mind, he felt like he knew Dean; he felt like it was safe to be there. Frowning slightly, Sam looked back down at his hands.

Chuckling softly, Dean shook his head and knelt by his duffel bag, pulling up his boxers under his towel and then tossing it to the side. "You're kind of a spaz, you know that?" He smirked over at Sam, pulling on his jeans.

"Thought we could get some breakfast, or at least coffee, since I have to take you back to your truck at that coffee place anyway." Dean's stomach churned even as he said it. He wished he knew what it was about Sam that made him feel all torn up inside and he wondered briefly if it had anything to do with that intimate thing he purposefully avoided.

A grin managed to make its way onto Sam's face. "Okay, sounds good. You're gonna be around town for a few days right?" Sam bounced up off the bed and disappeared down the side of it for a few moments, popping back up with his t-shirt and jeans in his hands. He pulled the shirt down over his head and struggled into his jeans then padded over to the table to shove some papers back into his bag.

"I... hadn't decided where I was headin' next," Dean said quietly, dropping onto the edge of the bed to pull on his socks and boots. Dean should be saying _I'll just drop you off at your truck and be on my way_ but he couldn't seem to summon the words. "Know any good breakfast places?"

"I sure do." Sam shoved his hair back off his face. "Back by the coffee shop we met at -it's just around the corner."

Sam was dressed and ready to go in a few minutes and waiting by the door. "C'mon, I'm hungry." He bounced up on his toes and smiled warmly at Dean. He couldn't help watching the man move around the room. It was strange, the way Dean moved, like he was really aware of his body - maybe it was the hunting. Sam could tell by the way Dean was built, the way he _felt_ , that he was strong and, it was probably _not_ a good idea to think about Dean's body.

"A spaz and a bit impatient." Dean smirked, pulling a gun from his bag and tucking it in the back of his jeans to slip into the dash. He had plenty of weapons in the car - and it wasn't likely he was going to need one - so why he felt the need to show off he had no idea. "Just in case," he added when he caught Sam's eye and shrugged. "Alright let's go," he headed for the door, pulling his keys from his pocket.

Their lives were obviously _very_ different. Sam very rarely took a gun with him to breakfast, well, actually he didn't own one. "Not a spaz," he mumbled as he followed Dean out of the room.

Sam's thoughts kicked into high gear once they were back in the car. Being back on the front seat beside Dean brought back the hunt, the rush of finding the shape shifter. Sam's thoughts drifted to what other things might actually be real. It seemed strange that it wasn't common knowledge that things like that creature existed. Sam guessed it was because people didn't actually _want_ to believe that there were bad things in the world.

By the time they were settled in a booth at The Red Fox Sam's brain was teaming with questions. Instead of battering Dean with queries he fiddled with his paper napkin, folding and unfolding it, stabbing it with a fork and making designs in it.

Dean didn't have to know people very well to know something was bothering Sam. He just hoped it wasn't something to do with where _they_ were going because, really, Dean wasn't ready to answer any relationship questions. Dean wasn't ready to even _think_ along those lines.

"What is it Sam?" Dean asked quietly, smiling gratefully up at the waitress as she returned with a mug of coffee for each of them.

Scratching the side of his nose, Sam smiled slightly. "I was just wondering," he put some sugar and cream into his coffee and stirred it, "why don't more people know about all this supernatural stuff that's out there? Are there lots of, hunters like you who take care of stuff? What about your family? Does anyone else in your family hunt? You must have fake ID and stuff, like the FBI thing." The last part was just a statement and Sam realized that he'd been babbling. He looked up, hand stilling with the spoon still in it and he shrugged.

"It's easier. For people not to believe." Dean shrugged, sipping from his coffee and setting it on the table. "There are many hunters out there, couldn't even begin to tell you how many since we're all pretty secretive." Dean wet his lips and sighed. It was odd to be talking about this stuff so casually but he owed Sam some answer after the fight yesterday.

"It's just me and my dad. We both hunt. And, what was the last question?" Dean chuckled softly and took another long sip before nodding. "Oh right. Fake IDs. Yes. I have a few. Depending on my needs."

"Your Dad, that's cool." Sam looked down at his coffee, pulled the spoon out of the mug and licked it off. "I. I'm adopted. My Dad and I don't have a _thing_ in common. I think that's where I get my curiosity from, the, uh," he flashed a smile at Dean, "the way I want answers to things. When I was a kid, even before they told me that I was adopted, I knew I was different from the rest of the family. I think people can just feel things like that, even little kids." He took a sip of his coffee, frowned at the bitterness and put some more sugar in it.

Dean nodded slowly, pulling a long drink from his mug, letting coffee burn down his throat. He didn't tell Sam that it wasn't so much a matter of being _cool_ that he and his father had this in common. Dean had never had a choice in the matter. It was the only thing he’d ever known. Even his schooling had been done on the road, just enough to get him by in the world.

Hell, Dean didn't even have his GED, though he did have a secret stash of study books tucked under the driver’s seat and when he had down time he read from them in preparation to take the GED test. "Do you have any siblings? With your adopted family?" Dean asked, more to keep the subject on Sam and off him than anything else.

"Siblings? Nah. Just me - my folks couldn't have kids, that's why they adopted me. They were great." Sam never liked to give people the wrong idea about his parents. "I think they just didn't count on getting a kid who was quite as curious as me. I found my adoption certificate when I was about nine years old and by the time I was twelve I was trying to find my real parents."

"No luck?" Dean frowned, shifting his coffee to the side as the waitress brought them their meal. He didn't know much about things like adoption but it seemed like it would be pretty easy to find out the information. Then again, Dean had an unusual way of dealing with problems like that. "Have you gone to the uh, I don't know, the place they keep these records? Shouldn't you be allowed to know since you're the kid and all?" Dean unrolled his napkin, pulling up his silverware and cutting into his omelette.

Sam shoved a forkful of hash browns in his mouth and chewed pointing his fork at Dean. " _That's_ what you'd think right? Turns out there's some sort of government seal on my file. It's really weird." Sam shook his head slowly and bit down on his toast. After he swallowed he spoke again. "I tried to find out why my file was sealed but no one can really tell me anything beyond it had to be someone important and I don't have the right name to be granted access. Dead end. Really."

Sam dropped his eyes to his plate and paused for a moment. "So - there you go - that's the reason I'm so curious. Can't know anymore about my own life." Sam pushed his food around on his plate a little bit, lining up the bacon.

"Weird." Dean scrunched up his face and lifted his shoulder, studying Sam for a moment as he raised his fork to his mouth. "It has to be something pretty important to seal the records from the child. Doesn't even seem fair." Dean shook his head and reached out for his coffee, considering Sam with a tilted head. "Maybe you're parents are famous? You could be the illegitimate child of Mel Gibson or something." He chuckled softly and resumed picking at his food.

Sam tilted his head a little and looked up with a slight grin on his face. "I don't look like Mel Gibson, I'm much better looking." He picked up his fork again and ate a mouthful of egg. "The thing I don't understand is, why would someone do that - you know?" He didn't know why he was telling Dean all of this, except that most people didn't really ask Sam much about anything.

"Makes me feel like maybe I was somehow responsible for something bad happening, I dunno." He chewed for a few minutes, thinking about all the ways he had tried to find out where he came from. "It's just weird ya know? Not knowing my history, where I come from. It's -" He shrugged. "Lonely, I guess. I'd like to know if there was someone out there somewhere who ever thought about me."

Dean pursed his lips. He understood loneliness very well. His heart ached for Sam slightly and he frowned, staring down at his food for awhile. Dean extended his leg, letting it rest against Sam's under the table. He hated seeing such a sad look on Sam's face. It didn't belong there. Sam looked much better when he was smiling.

Taking another long drink of coffee, Dean slowly let his mind settle on the decision. "You know. I'm pretty good with information. With finding out things you might not be able to learn through normal routes. I could, maybe stick around for a few days. See what I can find out?" He glanced up at Sam for a moment before turning his gaze down.

"Really?" Sam could feel his face brighten. He wasn't sure if he was more excited about the prospect of Dean hanging around for a few days or maybe finding out a little bit more about his family.

"That'd be really great," Sam smiled and dipped his head back down and munched on his toast, leaning his leg against Dean's under the table. "You wanna crash at my place? Instead of paying for a motel?" Sam could feel his cheeks heating up, so he kept his eyes focused on his plate, his fingers fiddling with his fork. "My couch folds out into a bed. So not. You know..." Sam was sure he was beet red now.

Chuckling softly, Dean stabbed at egg with his fork and brought it to his mouth. "I wouldn't completely object you know. If you were interested in sharing, your bed." Dean glanced down at his plate, back up at Sam to catch the red tint of his face, and back down. They must have looked pretty foolish, two grown men completely flushed with color. Sliding slightly forward in his seat, Dean let his leg trail just slightly along Sam's, rubbing together.

Not trusting his voice, Sam just nodded and licked his lips. After taking a sip of coffee and licking his lips he looked up. "I'd like that."

After they finished eating, they decided to part ways for a bit. Dean had a few things he wanted to do - like call his dad back - and Sam apparently had an article due sometime soon that he needed to put some finishing touches on. So Sam gave Dean his address and told him to come by when he was finished.

After a moment’s hesitation Dean caught Sam's arm and pulled him close, brushing their lips together. The kiss was probably why the smile lingered on his face for so long after he'd dropped Sam off at his truck in the Java Jive parking lot.

Dean took his time packing up his things around the motel room, taking the papers and files from the case and stashing them away in the trunk of his car. For the most part he enjoyed Sam's presence but Dean needed some alone time. He knew it was important if he wanted to remain sane with the man later on. So, he settled in with a book on his bed and read quietly for a while, barely understanding the words since his thoughts seemed flit around, never settling on any one thing.

Sometime later he finished off the remaining few pieces of pizza, eating it cold and with a beer. He wasted time flipping through the channels uselessly before sighing and giving in to the phone taunting him from its resting place on the table. His dad answered after the second ring, much to Dean's dismay. "Send the girl on her way?"

"Hi to you too dad." Dean rolled his eyes and flopped back on the bed, tucking his arm under his head and staring up at the ceiling. Dean didn't really have an issue with his dad, he wasn't angry or bitter or anything like that. But there were some things the man couldn't understand and, more than John knew, Dean was one of those things. "What's up?"

"Thought we could get together soon. Been a while. You gonna be there for a few days?"

Dean rolled over onto his stomach and pushed off the bed, lifting his duffel bag and lap top case up onto the mattress. "No, I'll be heading out soon but I can meet you somewhere. Where are you now?"

"Have some things to take care of. Give me a call by the end of the week. We'll figure something out." It was a command more than anything else and Dean didn’t have a chance to respond before the line was disconnected.

Dean stared down at his bags and frowned. The clock said it was after three and Dean shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.

With a soft sigh he lifted his bags and took them out to the car, stopping by the main office to turn in his key and walked slowly back to his car. He drove through the town slowly, delaying, using it to clear his mind of all the jumble of things rolling through him.

By the time he pulled up to Sam's place it was almost five and Dean sat behind the steering wheel for a few long moments before climbing out and retrieving his bags once more. It might not have been the wisest decision, to come and stay with Sam, but... he had nowhere else to be. And this was just like hunting something; only in the end he wouldn't be killing something. Instead, hopefully, he'd be pleasing Sam and that seemed far more important than it probably should. Dean cleared his throat as he stood before Sam's door, curling his fingers into a fist and knocking.

It was strange for Sam, having to write an article about an unsolved murder when he knew that the _killer_ had been brought to justice. Well, a kind of justice he supposed. Sam didn't want to spend too much time thinking about the moral integrity of hunting non-human entities. He arrived at the paper a little late and settled into his cluttered desk to fire off a summary article for his coverage of the last murder.

The paper was fairly busy considering the size of the city. Sam liked to think of himself as Clark Kent - racing around in a small city but really a man with a bigger agenda. Of course, whenever he thought that he ended up laughing at himself. The job was good, the people were great and he enjoyed the work. Most of Sam's week was spent researching, trying to arrange time to interview people. Sam's personality went a long way toward endearing him with people and it didn't take him long to gather some sources and make good connections. Sam's boss went on about how it had nothing to do with skill and was more to do with Sam's boyish good looks and the way he kept his hair long. Sam shrugged it off every single time.

Today was a little bit different because Sam was distracted. That normally didn't happen; normally Sam could immerse himself in his work and not come up for air until long after everyone else left the office. This particular afternoon he found himself glancing up at the wall clock repeatedly.

He figured if he were home by about four o'clock that would be soon enough to pick up something for dinner and clean up the place before Dean arrived. Twice he had co-workers slip past his desk and say he looked like he was up to something - he wasn't - in fact, he was just pretty damn happy that Dean was staying for a few days. Sam almost found himself hoping that Dean wouldn't find out anything too quickly so that he might extend his stay. He figured that was too much to hope for.

He wasn't exactly sure what it was about the hunter that had him so intrigued. There was something about Dean, his strength, like he was holding himself back somehow. Last night hadn't been nearly enough time for Sam to explore that body, to learn more about Dean's mind.

Again, with the smiling.

At about three thirty Sam gave up trying to pretend to work and hurried out the door. He stopped by the market on the way home, picked up some groceries and was already almost finished cleaning up when he heard a knock on his door.

"Come in!" he hollered toward the door. He made a last wipe over the counter and tossed the cloth back under the sink. There was already a smile on his face when he rounded the corner to grab Dean's bag.

Dean blinked in surprise when a moment after stepping inside Sam was right there, taking his bag and beaming at him. "Hi," he smiled for a moment and looked around curiously, wondering what he might learn about the man by the place he lived.

Dean could see a few pictures on the hall table of an older couple, presumably Sam's adoptive parents, a TV and couch in the living room, nothing out of the ordinary considering a man of Sam's age. Except maybe the cleanliness. Dean was fairly certain people in their young twenties were supposed to be mess. Dean smiled and looked up at Sam. "You cleaned for me didn't you?"

"Is it that obvious?" Sam threw back his head and laughed. " _Jesus_ you don't miss at thing, you're the perfect person to hunt down my real folks. He leaned in and kissed Dean's lips quickly, turning so that the other man wouldn't catch sight of the flush that almost immediately started to bloom above the collar of his t-shirt.

"Come on, bedroom's back here - you can leave your stuff in there." Sam padded down the short hallway and opened the door leaving Dean's smaller duffel in the corner.

Dean had to swallow a few times as he followed Sam down the hall to his bedroom, lips still tingling slightly from the too brief touch. Dean _really_ could get used to this kissing a lot thing. "I just know I probably would be a slob if I had my own place, lived alone and worked a lot. So, simple reasoning." He shrugged and scratched at the back of his neck for a moment before curling his fingers around Sam's shirt and tugging him forward slightly. He smirked in the few inches between their lips, eyes locking with Sam's. "How was work _dear_?" He teased, almost instantly filled with surprise at himself. This behaviour seemed to come naturally with Sam, which didn't make any sense to him but sometimes things just didn't.

"Uh. Hi," Sam murmured, licking his lips and smiling. "I guess you'll probably tease me even more when I tell you that I cooked you dinner too." He shrugged, his hand slipping to Dean's hip, one finger sliding through the man's belt loop. "S'just," he cleared his throat, closing his eyes for a few moments when Dean's warm breath blew across his lips, "pasta."

"I like pasta," Dean said softly and brushed their lips together for a moment, pulling back and humming softly before slipping forward and slanting his mouth fully over Sam's. His tongue moved forward almost instantly, hand threading up through Sam's hair, curling there. Sam's lips, his mouth, every part of him was just... too much. And Dean moaned into the kiss, stepping forward until his body could press flush against Sam's.

Sam's hands settled on the small of Dean's back, his finger tips dipping just under the waist band of his jeans. He sucked Dean's tongue deep into his mouth, grazing his teeth over the bumpy flesh of it, tilted his head to the side as his heart started to race a little bit faster.

When Dean pulled back to get a breath of air, Sam murmured, "your d-dinner." He gestured vaguely toward the hall with one hand then slipped it up under Dean's shirt and slid it back and forth slowly across his abs.

"My what?" Dean blinked up at Sam, eyes fluttering with the rippling effect of his muscles under Sam's touch. It was a little difficult to process anything when Sam was touching him and it felt so _good_. He dipped his head down to suck along Sam's neck, turning their bodies and backing Sam up against the wall, curling his fingers along Sam's hip bones. His hips rocked forward slightly into Sam's and he moaned against his flesh, running his teeth over his collar bone.

Sam didn't care very much about dinner right at that moment. His hands clamped over Dean's ribs then slid, slowly down the other man's body curving around to slip over his ass. Sam's fingers slipped into Dean's back pockets and he tugged him close. He let his head fall to the side to deepen the kiss, a small growl building deep within his chest.

He'd missed the heat of Dean's mouth, just since the night before; for someone who had never been kissed before meeting Sam - he was pretty _damn_ good at it. Sam's fingers curled _hard_ into the muscles of Dean's ass and Sam slid his legs apart as he leaned back against the wall, breath nearly crushed out of him by the hunter's weight.

"Jesus," Dean gasped as he slid back slightly, staring into Sam's heavy lidded eyes. Already he was more turned on then he thought possible. Sam just seemed to affect him in the strongest, most intense way.

He rocked once more forward into Sam's body, grinding their hips together. His fingers slid under Sam's shirt, dragging along his skin and tugging it up and over his head, tossing it to the side. They could heat up dinner; he wanted to feel Sam's skin now. His hands splayed across Sam's chest, dragging down curved muscles, the pad of his thumb rubbing along a hard nipple.

Sam's head thudded back against the wall and he bit down hard on his bottom lip, chest arching forward into Dean's touch. His hands scrabbled at Dean's shoulders, pushing his jacket off and down his arms waiting impatiently while Dean moved his hands to shuck it off.

Fingers tucked under the hem of Dean's t-shirt Sam pushed it up, palms gliding flat against Dean's chest. Sam loved the feel of the man's muscles, his fingers stopped to dance over a long scar across the center line of Dean's body. "Dean-" Sam felt like things were speeding out of control, not that he minded the way this felt, he just felt like he had to be ready for Dean to put the brakes on at any moment. Sam settled on " _Fuck_ " to sum up what he was feeling.

In the next moment Dean's shirt was dropping to the floor and Dean was turning Sam toward the bed, backing him up until the back of his knees were brushing against the mattress. It was easier now, to let his confidence seep into this touch. He knew Sam wasn’t going to try and overpower him and all those insecurities that had made Dean wait so long for this were fluttering away to the back of his mind.

Dean liked how he felt comfortable with Sam and at the moment it was easier not to question it. Their lips slid together once more as Dean tugged at Sam's waistline, working at the button and zipper and pushing down roughly as his tongue thrust forward.

Sam gasped as his hips were pulled up off the bed by Dean tugging on his pants at the same time their mouths crashed together again. Heat shot through Sam's body and his hips snapped up to find more pressure. His cock was already heavy and full. He moaned when his pants were shoved down and rough denim ground down into him. Hands snaking down between, Sam tried to undo the hunter's pants, tugging and groaning with frustration. "Dean... take 'em off," he almost whined.

Dean couldn't help grinning even as he shifted up and quickly undid his pants, sliding them off and standing to step out of them. Leaning forward, he curled his fingers under Sam's boxers and tugged them down and off, tossing them to the side.

Dean worked his hands along Sam's legs, trailing up from the ankle, sliding along the knee, massaging into the thigh. Dean's mouth watered slightly as he stared down at Sam's crotch, heart thudding heavily in his chest. He thought about tasting him, tongue dragging across his lips, and he raised his eyes to look at Sam. "Can I...?" his fingers brushed the hard flesh, once more licking his lips in nervous anticipation.

"Y-yeah,” Sam murmured. The thought of Dean's full lips anywhere near his cock just about made him come. He could feel desire swirling through his body, his shaft weighed heavy against his belly, so full it ached. "Yesss," he hissed as his hips started to roll slightly, back and forth. Just like that, without Dean's mouth anywhere near his body Sam couldn't stop moving.

Sam reached out a shaking hand, his fingers grazing softly down Dean's cheek. "Anything."

Moaning softly in response to the words falling from Sam's mouth, Dean pursed his lips and leaned forward, nuzzling his nose against the curls of hair along the base of Sam's cock. He pulled in a deep breath, learning the musky scent of Sam's flesh. "Sammy," he breathed, hands shaking slightly as he curled fingers around the base of the man’s shaft, holding it steady.

Dean's eyes were riveted to the swollen crown of Sam's cock, deep red, little dollop of precome smearing at the top. Shifting forward, Dean snaked his tongue out and grazed across the slit, gathering the liquid and tasting it. Salty, sort of bland, not bad at all. Eyes flickering up to Sam, Dean made an O out of his lips and sucked that fleshy tip into his mouth, letting his tongue sweep across it in slow circles.

Sam's mouth felt completely dry, Dean's face was gorgeous. The man's cheeks were flushed, a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead and his eyes so dark now with lust they were barely green at all. Sam moaned, his chest arching up off the bed, hips moving as he tried to get back to stay in contact with that hot tongue. His rigid shaft was throbbing, aching. He reached down, fingers threading through Dean's hair and moving ceaselessly. "Dean-" As the man’s lips sank further and further down onto his cock Sam’s heart thudded faster.

Dean's mouth felt full, fuller then anything he'd ever experienced before. Sucking Sam further into his mouth, Dean let his jaw relax, learning how to take him in. Tightening his fingers along the base, Dean made up for what he couldn't take by stroking upward. The way Sam writhed beneath him, the noises he made, were better than the taste on his tongue and that was saying something. Dean rocked his hips against the bed, hollowing his cheeks to pull at Sam, tongue swiping across his skin over and over.

As Dean's mouth moved over his cock, Sam's body jolted off the bed. He tried to keep himself still, tried not to push up in Dean's heat but he was beyond having much control anymore. He couldn't stop making the keening sounds that were leaking past his lips, couldn't stop is spine from twisting back and forth. He _wanted_ Dean. He pushed up, loving the feel of his rigid flesh suddenly so hot and slick in Dean's mouth. The man’s lips were like silk, sliding up and down his flesh, driving him closer and closer to completely insane with every suck and lick. Sam stretched his arms up above his head and grabbed the headboard, knuckles white and straining as his chest arched up.

Letting his hand curl under his chin, Dean massaged his palm into Sam's balls, groaning against the burning fullness in his mouth. This was reaching extreme levels better than Dean even thought imaginable.

Pulling back, Dean blew over the slick hard flesh, smirking when Sam's hips shot up in response. Sucking Sam back into his mouth, Dean worked the sac of flesh along between his fingers. He wanted to feel Sam explode in his mouth, wanted it more then he thought he should. Dean moaned against the hard flesh, relaxing his jaw and sliding so far down the crown brushed along the back of his throat, almost making him gag. Drawing back a little, Dean pulled in a sharp breath through his nose and steadied himself before sliding back down once more.

"Dean, come on." Sam's fingers were wrapped so tight around the rungs on the headboard he could barely feel his fingers. "I'm. I'll-" it felt too good.

Every time Dean's mouth sank down over him he felt like he would come, then Dean pulled back and Sam's pleasure relented for a moment. His hips moved constantly, twisting and turning seeking out whatever contact he could get with Dean's body.

Moaning softly, Sam lifted his head to watch Dean's lips straining wide over his skin as he took him back deep in his throat. He fell back on the bed, hips stuttering forward. "Dean. Gonna come," he whispered as his body arched up off the bed, muscles tightening and straining. Dean's hollowed cheeks sucked hard on his cock and Sam thrust up twice, his balls clenching tight up to his own flesh. Throbbing painfully, his cock pulsed long and hard shooting his released into Dean's mouth. Mumbling Dean's name over and over as the lips kept moving, sucking him dry Sam felt like he was going on pass out.

The taste of Sam's come was a little richer, saltier, and it flowed down his throat, across his tongue, over every inch of his mouth as he swallowed eagerly. A little dribbled along the side of his mouth and Dean wiped at it with his finger as he slid up Sam's body, smacking his lips a few times to work the taste around. "Mm you taste surprisingly good," he murmured, dragging his still boxer clad crotch along Sam's thigh and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"I-" Sam turned his head slowly to capture Dean's lips as he pried his fingers off the headboard. He could taste himself on Dean's tongue and moaned softly - fingers finally able to slide over Dean's hair and down his neck. He sucked and licked his way around Dean's mouth.

Moaning into the kiss, Dean shifted his hips against Sam's side, needing some sort of relief for the want and heat spiralling through him. Dean broke the kiss with a gasp, pulling in a deep breath, chest shaking slightly. "It was okay?" He asked, lip tilting up in a slight smirk even though he could feel the nerves through the question.

"Okay?" Sam's eyes widened and he squirmed down sliding over on to Dean's body and burying his face in Dean's neck. He bit the red-flushed skin and licked his way up to Dean's ear. "You were awesome," he whispered as his tongue darted in and out of Dean's ear quickly. His mouth moved wet and hot down Dean's neck biting his way along the other man's collar bone.

Sam's hands ran up the sides of Dean's neck and ran them roughly through his hair as he kissed his way back and forth across Dean's body. Sliding down Dean's body, Sam's hand dragged behind him - palm running over Dean's chest, fingers catching Dean's nipple. He straddled Dean's thigh as he slipped further down, nipping his way down to Dean's belly button. Sam's teeth caught hold of the flesh of the other man's belly and he flicked his tongue over it. Palm sliding down the midline of Dean's body Sam moaned softly against the warm skin. He brought his knee up against Dean's balls, rocking forward on his knees to give him the friction he seemed to want.

Murmuring incoherently, Dean rocked down against Sam's knee, body arching up into Sam's lips on his stomach. "S-sammy," he mumbled, head digging back into the bed as his body lifted up, almost pleading with motion. He really doubted he'd last long, no matter what Sam did. Hell he could probably just keep using his knee and that would do it for him. Another moan fell from his lips as his hand settled in Sam's hair.

Kneeling up for a moment, Sam hooked his fingers over Dean's boxers and pulled them down. He slid to the side and let Dean kick them off then crawled backwards down the bed eyes locked with Dean until he could settle between Dean's legs.

Darting forward Sam's tongue swept up the length of Dean's cock the sucked gently at the crown for a few moments before letting it fall from his mouth. His eyes moved lazily up Dean's body, appreciating his form, the tanned colour of his skin, the white of his scars then to his eyes, making sure the man was still okay.

Dean's body lurched off the bed, the wet heat of Sam's mouth on his burning flesh was more than he ever could of have imagined. His brain shut down, completely fried and overloaded. All his senses focused in on Sam's mouth, silky lips over his skin, curves and ridges of Sam's mouth just barely grazing along his flesh. Dean's fingers tightened in Sam's hair as his head thrashed side to side on the mattress, hips constantly circling. "Sam," he dragged out the name in a heavy moan, rocking forward eagerly.

Shifting his body slightly to the side, Sam kissed the tip of Dean's cock, slipping his tongue gently across the slit then slammed his mouth down over the rigid shaft. Fingers digging hard into Dean's hips he tried to keep him from bucking up too hard into his throat, knowing how it must feel by the way he was moaning - the sounds that were shooting straight to Sam's cock and making him half-hard again.

He sucked long and hard, adjusting to Dean's girth, then slid his tongue flat along the underside Dean's shaft, pulsing it, curling it around the heated flesh. The tang of Dean's come seeped slowly into his mouth and Sam shuddered, Dean tasted good, too good. Sam could get used to this. He curled his fingers loosely around the thick base of Dean's cock and squeezed gently, sliding his hand up and down to match the rhythm of his mouth. His hair fell forward dragging over Dean's sensitive skin and then sticking to Sam's face in damp wisps.

" _Fuck_ ," Dean gasped, body constantly in motion beneath Sam. He couldn't get enough, every time Sam slid down his flesh Dean nearly curled up into him, nearly shot off the bed with the burning heat. "Mm gonna-" he hissed, not capable of holding on any longer. First time blow job and all. Dean's head dug back into the mattress, eyes slamming shut, Sam's name falling from his lips in a thick and heavy moan. Every fibre of his being tightened and released at once as he emptied his load into Sam's mouth, fingers tugging into Sam's hair rougher then he probably should.

Moaning around the throbbing, pulsing flesh Sam sucked and swallowed, then pulled back slightly - all the while letting his tongue roll and slide against Dean's flesh. As Dean's orgasm ran its course, Sam lapped the over-sensitive flesh clean then fell to the bed in a heap at Dean's hip. He reached up for Dean's hand and twined their fingers together. "Was _that_ good?"

"Hell yeah." Dean exhaled slowly, squeezing Sam's hand. He allowed himself a long moment to get his breathing under control then his hand wrapped around the back of Sam's neck and he pulled him forward slanting their lips together. He could taste himself in Sam's mouth and he moaned, lapping eagerly around every inch of Sam's mouth. Pulling back after a moment, Dean sighed softly and grinned. "Fuckin' amazing."

Laughing softly Sam settled himself against Dean's side. "That was your dessert - you got it before dinner. I had this whole seduction thing planned." He huffed a small laugh, "guess I didn't have to bother cleaning."

"What? It was the clean thing that got me so worked up," Dean teased, chuckling softly in return and nudging Sam's side. "I wouldn't have jumped you if your place was a mess."

"I'll keep that in mind." Sam groaned and rolled over so he was lying flat on his back, "I'm gonna try and get up now and put some comfy clothes on and warm up your dinner." Rolling back once more Sam pressed a kiss to Dean's jaw.

"You can rest here for a while if you want, bask in the joy that is _me_." Chuckling he scooted away and hopped off the bed rooting around on the floor for his pyjama pants. After he tugged them on he turned back to the bed and held up a finger. "Now you've seen my comfy home pants - I have to kill you." He padded out of the room and down the hall to the kitchen.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head and settling back into the bed. He allowed himself a few minutes of _basking in Sam_ before he slid off the mattress and crossed to his boxers on the floor. The insides were smeared with precome and he frowned slightly before retrieving a fresh pair. He stepped into his jeans a moment later, doing them up as he headed down the hall.

Dean let his eyes slip across the walls, Sam with pictures of his parents, his friends, holding up a diploma. Everything was so _normal_. Dean wondered what that type of life must be like. It seemed almost impossible to imagine. _Something normal_. With a soft sigh he headed into the bathroom, closing the door softly behind him.

Staring at his reflection in the mirror, Dean thought about why he was there, who he was trying to fool. Every moment he spent with Sam was like pretending that this could happen. As if Dean could just give up his life as a hunter and settle down in Black Forest, Colorado with some guy who drove him _insane_ with want and desire. But what would Dean do? Hunting was his life, it was all he knew. And he'd be shit as any type of boyfriend. Touching and kissing and all those things with sex in mind was one thing but Dean couldn't fathom the idea of doing things like holding hands, snuggling on the couch, hell, he'd woken in Sam's arms and felt a little like he was going to spontaneously combust. No one _touched_ Dean, in all his life he could probably count the number of hugs he'd had on two hands.

Shaking his head, Dean splashed some water on his face and turned to the door, shoving the thoughts to the side. So what if Dean wasn't into the idea of some relationship, he hadn't given Sam any idea that this was what he wanted. Sam seemed to be aware of things without Dean needing to give them words. And if they had to discuss it, he'd figure out the words.

For now, he was going to let himself have this. One selfish act. Pulling open the bathroom door, Dean headed toward the kitchen, leaning against the wooden frame and clearing his throat. "I didn't ruin it did I? Your pasta?"

Sam was pulling a huge lasagne out of the oven. "Nah... and who cares - if you did it was worth it." He grinned and shoved the steaming tray on to the top of his stove. "Don't worry, I didn't make it - my Mama did - she froze it for me last time she was here -said I might need it to impress a date sometime." He tossed the dishcloth on the counter and started getting out some silverware. "There's beer in the fridge, you wanna grab a couple? We can eat in front of the TV if you don't wanna talk." He paused, "that didn't come out quite like I meant it." He put two plates on the counter and turned to offer Dean a slight smile.

"Nervous?" Dean asked with a slight smirk, heading to the fridge to retrieve a couple beers and then to the counter to set one down. After twisting off the caps of both, Dean carried them to the table and set them on the wooden surface. "Thought you could tell me a little about what you've tried so far, you know, with the research thing. So I have some idea what to look into."

"Everything?" Sam got a knife and cut two large pieces of lasagne then spooned them onto plates and brought them over to the table. "There you go." He sat and took a slip of beer.

"I managed to get as far back as the official certificate of adoption. My parents didn't have an original and the copy that they had came complete with some black marks that must have been to cover up some of the things I wasn't supposed to see." He leaned back in his chair letting his dinner cool a little. "The certificate number was clear - but when I went to the government here they told me that I had to go to the state of origin to get more information. I guess I just didn't wanna make the trip alone - it's a long drive and I'm pretty sure I would just face another set of road blocks once I got there." He sighed and pulled his plate closer and cut off a piece of lasagne.

Cutting into the lasagne, Dean moaned slightly at the sudden explosion of taste across his tongue. "Damn this is good. You can tell your mom it's second only to what came before," Dean smirked and shook his head. "Well you probably don't want to say that."

He chewed on the pasta thoughtfully before meeting Sam's eyes. "So... what's the state of origin? Far from here?"

Sam smiled and shovelled some more lasagne into his mouth. "Kansas," he mumbled around his food. "You know anyone in Kansas who could help?" He drank some of his beer. The lasagne was pretty good and it made Sam think of home.

Arching his eyebrows, Dean nodded slowly. "Well. I'm from Kansas," he shrugged. "I didn't spend a lot of time there though. Maybe I could call my dad, ask a few questions. He lived there much longer." Dean ate quietly for awhile, sorting through ideas, wondering how he could approach the subject without raising the man's suspicions.

"It's a start I guess." Sam smiled, pleased, already it seemed to have paid off to have Dean around. "You close to your Dad?" Sam was plowing through his meal, he was hungry. Now that his nerves were settling a little he was feeling a bit more normal.

"I wouldn't call it that." Dean shook his head, speaking around the food in his mouth. "He raised me. He taught me all I know. I respect him and trust him with my life. Maybe that’s getting along. We only see each other once or twice a year." He shrugged and pulled up his beer bottle, taking a long pull.

"My folks come down quite a bit, they don't live that far away really. Usually, Mom brings me food." Sam gestured to the lasagne. "We go out for lunch or something and then they say goodbye. No big deal, I guess that's better than some people have. You travel around a lot I guess." He was already thinking about Dean leaving. Sam _knew_ this was going to happen. He _knew_ he shouldn't let him get involved with someone who didn't even live in the same city.

"Both my dad and I travel." Dean shrugged and cut off a piece of the lasagne. "So. Do you get time off? At your job? I mean, if you needed to go to Kansas for this, would you be able to?"

"Yeah, I haven't taken any vacation yet; you think I'll need to go there soon? Maybe if you find something?" Sam tilted his head and put another forkful of lasagne in his mouth.

Dean pursed his lips and pushed back from the table, curling his fingers around his beer bottle. He wondered why this was even coming up as an idea. Why was his brain even suggesting it as a possibility? Then again, Dean couldn't shake the desire to keep Sam around, which was weird in its own right. "I just thought. Well, I'm supposed to be meeting up with my dad soon. I could arrange us to meet in Kansas. I mean, if I don't find any leads before then. If you want." He shrugged.

Something kind of cool happened in Sam's body when Dean asked him to travel with him; it was kind of like the feeling he got in his chest the day Amanda Welling had given him his first open-mouthed kiss in Junior High. It was a buzzing sort of happiness. "Yeah," he said. "That would be great." He looked down at his food and smiled.

Dean couldn't help wondering what his father would make of the whole situation. He quickly realized the he didn't really care. "Okay," he nodded and settled into a comfortable silence, occasionally glancing up at Sam.


	4. Chapter 4

There was something about Sam that was just intoxicating. In fact, Dean couldn't really get enough of him. Which was terrifying. And also the reason they spent more time the next day in bed then they did out of it. Dean was perfectly okay with that fact.

No one kissed like Sam, even if Dean didn't have anything to compare it too. The way their lips slid together, the noises Sam made, Dean could get lost in them for hours. He did get lost in them for hours.

At some point he did manage to drag his laptop up and browse through some of the government sites he'd managed to hack into beforehand. All of Dean's computer knowledge was self taught but he managed, and Sam even offered some good pointers. It wasn't too hard to find out that what they really needed to do was go to Kansas. Sam had been right on that issue. So he left a voicemail for his dad and they spent the evening watching horror movies, sitting close enough for their thighs to touch. Dean let his hand rest on top of Sam's on his thigh, appreciating the fact that the man seemed to know he couldn't handle much more touching then that.

Sam enjoyed having Dean around. The guy had his strange moments, that was for certain, Sam picked up quickly on the fact that Dean wasn't a cuddler. Actually, that was a massive overstatement; Dean pretty much didn't seem to want to be touched unless it was involved in sex. Now, Sam wasn't complaining about the sex, what they had done was pretty amazing and Sam had high hopes that Dean would want to do much more. As far as Sam was concerned Dean could do whatever the hell he wanted to him.

Yeah, he liked touching him _that_ much. He felt like he was getting to know the man slowly, but Dean has spent so much time alone it was a bit like chipping away at stone. Sam was reminded of Michelangelo saying that he didn't create his sculpture of David, he just set him free from the stone that held him. Sam was willing to keep chipping away - the reward was good.

Hell, just the night before Sam had accidentally fallen asleep on Dean's lap. He wasn't quite sure how he got there, he only vaguely remembered being really tired during the movie and the next thing he knew Dean was shaking him gently awake and moving them to the bed. Sam liked sharing a bed; it made his world seem a little less lonely.

On his third day with Sam, or at Sam's house at least, Dean heard back from his father. He didn't mention Sam specifically, only said there was a friend he was working with on a case and he needed his dad's help. Even though the man had seemed a little surprised to hear Dean refer to anyone as a friend, the idea of helping Dean with something seemed to please him.

They agreed to meet in Kansas in three days time, settling on Topeka as a meeting place. Since it was the capital, Dean figured the main government building might offer something. After arranging all the details, he flipped his phone closed and rolled over on the bed to look at Sam, who was currently propped up on the pillow, reading. "So we're set."

"All set for our massive road trip." Sam brushed his hair back off his face and smiled down at Dean trailing his fingers quickly across Dean's cheek. "Is your Dad gonna hate me? Oh, which reminds me. I guess when I meet your Dad - I'm. We're not," he moved his fingers back and forth between them. Sam had never really had to worry about meeting anyone's parent before - not that that was why Dean had set up this meeting. "I'm a case, yeah?"

"For now," Dean nodded. Truthfully, Dean didn't know _what_ Sam was. The very idea of no longer having him around was... not pleasant. It felt a little like Sam completed some part of him he hadn’t even known _was_ incomplete. And the fact that he felt that way after four days of knowing the guy, well that had to be something.

"He doesn't really; we haven't talked about the gay thing. I don't know how he's going to be. But I think I should tell him I prefer guys before I spring a bo- uh." Dean trailed off awkward, blinking in surprise at himself and the word he almost let slip.

Sam smiled. "No problem, I'm not tryin' to pressure you man. I know what we're doing here. I know you're gonna drive away into the sunset at some point." Sam forced a grin and went back to reading his book. He was surprised at how much the idea of Dean eventually taking off bothered him. He'd never had a moment when he didn't know that it had to happen but still, he couldn't help holding out some stupid hope that they might at least get to see each other again.

"I wish I knew that," Dean mumbled low and under his breath before rolling off the bed. "Well, I'm gonna go take a shower. We should leave tomorrow, get in a little earlier to see what we can find out on our own," Dean scratched absently at his chest and moved over to his duffel bag. "So call your work? Make whatever arrangements and stuff," he gave Sam a quick smile before heading for the door.

"Hey," Sam rested his book against his chest. "I really enjoy spending time with you, you know that right? I just don't want you to think I'm pushing for anything. I knew what you did when we got toge- when we started doing whatever it is we're doing." Sam looked down at the edge of his book.

Hesitating at the doorway, Dean turned slightly to Sam and nodded. "I know. It's just. I never planned for you." Dean shrugged, soft sigh falling from his lips. "Do you? You want to take a shower with me?" He smiled slightly at Sam, heart kicking up speed at the thought.

"Yeah, I'd like that." Sam threw his book across the room and hopped out of bed bolting for the bathroom door. "Didn't want you to change your mind," he said as he slipped past Dean. He got the shower started and hopped in holding the curtain back for Dean. He wasn't quite sure how showering together was going to work out with Dean's hesitancy to touch. Sam shifted around nervously.

Dean followed much slower, though a smile lingered on his lips. Sam's attitude was pretty contagious. He stepped in beside Sam and pulled the curtain closed, letting his eyes slide down the full length of Sam's body before looking up to lock with hazel. "Have I told you that you look very good naked?" He grinned and pushed Sam under the spray. "Mm just as I thought. You look even better naked and wet."

Laughing, Sam tilted his head back and let the water run over his hair pushing it back off his face. When he looked back down he let his eyes trail down Dean's body, fingers drifting forward to brush lazily over Dean's thigh. "You look pretty good too." He raised his hands and grabbed Dean's shoulders tugging him forward so they could switch places. Sam made sure he pressed close to Dean as he slid past. "Get wet."

Another smirk tugged up Dean lips as he stepped back into the water. His eyes stayed fixed on Sam as he let the warm liquid cascade down over him, dripping across his brow, down his shoulders and chest. When it fell into his eyes he reached up with one hand and swiped it away, letting the heat relax some of the tension in his shoulders. Taking a deep breath, Dean reached out and curled his fingers around Sam's hip, pulling him forward so their bodies slid together. "I like how you feel naked even better," he murmured, and dipped down to suck kisses into Sam's neck.

"I like how you feel whenever I get to touch you." The water was bouncing off Dean's back up into Sam's face and he grinned and closed his eyes. Dean's body was cooler than the water and it was the strangest feeling - hot water pouring between them, over his skin and the cool slide of Dean's body pressed up against him. Sam wasn't sure how he was going to keep his hands off Dean while they were in the car together for all that time, alone. He rocked his hips against Dean's. Sam spun in Dean's arms, so his back was against Dean's chest then leaned his head back hips still tilting back and forth, rubbing Dean's cock in between the cheeks of his ass.

A low moan feel from Dean's lips as Sam moved against him. He couldn't resist the gentle rocks forward, letting his hands fall to Sam's hips to hold him steady as he moved. "Jesus," he gasped, surprised by how good it felt.

It made Dean think about the _more_ , the option of taking Sam in a way he hadn't had him yet. Dean’s head fell down to the crook of Sam's neck, sucking on the flesh, biting roughly then sucking once more. His hand slid around the front of Sam, curling at the base of his already hard length and dragging upward. His cock fell perfectly into the groove between Sam's ass and Dean's knees dipped slightly from the wave of pleasure.

Reaching back, Sam's fingers grabbed at Dean's hips and pulled him closer. He rolled his head towards Dean’s and whispered, "you can, fuck me, if you want." His voice was deep and thick as he tilted his hips up and down to slide against Dean's hard shaft. "I've d-done it before." His breath hitched in his chest. The thought of Dean inside him sent lust shooting through his body.

A flare of something jealous and possessive shot through Dean so fast he was nearly blindsided. His shoulders tensed slightly and he uncurled his hand from Sam's cock, pressing it firm into his hips and grinding him back into Dean's hard flesh. Dean let his lips rest against Sam's ear, word coming out in a faint growl.

"You've done it before huh? How many times?" Dean wasn't certain what part of him wanted to know, _needed_ to know, and he was completely thrown by the feeling that Sam was _his_ and no one else should be touching him like that.

Sam's body was trembling; he could feel Dean's voice reverberate through his body. The grip the man had on his hips was painful and possessive and it ratcheted up Sam's _want_ like crazy. "I. I don't know. A few times." He could barely think, let alone speak. His fingers curled harder, deeper, into the flesh and muscle of Dean's hips; he let his nails dig in to the bare skin.

Hissing slightly at the burn of Sam's nails digging into his skin, Dean shoved them roughly forward, pushing Sam into the far wall of the shower stall and pulling up the man's hand to hold down roughly under his own. "How long has it been? Since the last time?" He growled into Sam's ear, biting at the flesh before stepping back slightly and letting his free hand trace down the hard line of Sam's back. Over the curve of his ass, along the crack. Dean spread the flesh and searched out the puckered hole, rubbing it in slow circles before sliding just a fraction of an inch in and back out.

" _Jesus._ Dean," Sam moaned out against the tiles clenching around Dean's finger then whining softly when it was gone. The thumping of his heart was killing him, he could feel it beating against his chest wall. "I m-months. I don't remember," and _he didn't care_. Sam's back arched as much as was possible crushed so tightly between the wall and Dean's hard body.

Dean smirked, loving the fact that he could reduce Sam to this state. "I bet I'll be better than anyone you had," he growled, dipping forward to suck at the back of Sam's neck, letting his finger once more slide inside Sam's tight heat. "Even as a virgin," he chuckled roughly, sliding his finger all the way inside, stepping back to give Sam room to adjust his hips. With the man's ass pushed out to him slightly, Dean stared down at the sight hungrily, working his finger in the tight hole. "So how do you like it? Want me to fuck you hard and fast?" Dean fell against Sam's back, speaking the words into his flesh between bites and open mouthed kisses. He felt slightly drunk with the pleasure and power, and he definitely wanted to get out of this shower and onto a bed right _now_.

Sam thumped his hand flat against the wall, "y..yes. "

Sam had never been so turned on in his life his hips were rocking back and forth as he tried to push down onto Dean's finger then twisting and writhing trying desperately to get something to touch his cock. His balls were aching and he let his hand slip down, reaching between his wrap his fingers around his shaft. "Dean-" his head fell back against the other man's.

"Hey now, no touching." Dean swatted at Sam's hand and pulled back stepping away from Sam and across the shower to turn off the water. In a flash he had the shower curtain back and was stepping across the bathroom, turning over his shoulder to consider Sam with a smirk. "Well? Are you coming? You sure as hell ain't gonna get fucked in there." Just saying the words made his knees dip slightly and he over compensated by taking a quick step forward, heading quickly for Sam's room.

The reality was that Sam wanted to follow Dean but he couldn't even breathe properly for a few long moments. When he could finally move he stepped over the side of the shower, hands shaking as he grabbed onto the towel rack and nearly yanked it off the wall.

Stumbling forward into the bedroom Sam's eyes glanced quickly down, his cock was bouncing slightly, aching even more, dark red; his eyes darted back up to find Dean. He was standing by the bed, water still dripping down his skin and Sam was suddenly jealous of every drop.

He moved quickly, shakily, over to Dean's side as he fumbled with the drawer behind them. He pulled out a condom and some lube and slid eel-like down Dean's side to kneel at his feet. Leaning forward Sam buried his nose in the wet hair around the base of Dean's cock and inhaled deeply; the smell ran through his body like wildfire and he moaned again, turning his head to lap gently at the water still beading on Dean's shaft. One arm tightening around Dean's waist he looked up and held up the condom in a shaking hand. "Here if you... if you want to use it." He buried his nose again, nudging his lips up against Dean's shaft.

Dean's hips were rocking forward into Sam and he snatched the condom, staring at it for a moment. "Do I need too?" He asked, voice rough and throaty, fingers curling in Sam's hair tightly. He spread his legs a little, giving Sam more room. He felt the negative shake of Sam's head against him and he tossed the condom to the side, pulling Sam's head back slightly by his hair to stare down into his bright green eyes shining with lust.

Sam's lips fell open just enough that Dean couldn't resist guiding him forward once more, head tilting back with a loud groan as the heat of Sam's mouth slid over him. Dean could almost imagine being buried in the tight heat of Sam ass and he took a few luxurious moments to guide Sam's head with slow thrusts forward, struggling to keep from slamming all the way in and gagging the man. Pulling back roughly when the stimulation was too much, he let go of Sam's hair and grunted, "Bed. Now."

Dean's voice, the way he was handling Sam - _handling_ him had Sam scrambling up on to the bed as fast as he could. He crawled into the center of the bed and kneeled there one hand held out to Dean, the other still clutching the lube. "L-let me," his voice was barely above a whisper.

The way his heart clenched at the words, Dean could barely get his throat to work. He crawled onto the bed slowly, sitting back on his heels and considering Sam. Dean was actually a little surprised he wasn't more nervous, since he had virtually no idea what he was doing, but Sam just made him _that_ comfortable. "Okay," he nodded, eyes flickering along Sam's body, lingering on his ass.

Holding out a palm and smiling at Dean briefly when he noticed how badly his hand was shaking, Sam squirted a generous amount of lube into his palm. He rubbed his hands together then slid them slowly over Dean's hard-on, it was slick and hot all at the same time; Dean's almost feverish skin warmed the lube and Sam groaned as he fell against the man's body.

Taking in a deep breath, Sam sat back on his own heels and wiped his hands on the sheet beside him then pressed his hands to Dean's chest guiding him toward the headboard, "sit... please?"

Crawling across the bed, Dean settled against the headboard, breath coming out in short, surprised puffs of air. He could pretty easily put it together what was about to happen and, though he thought he should feel a little terrified at the idea of letting Sam be on top of him, the idea kind of thrilled him. Okay, _really_ thrilled him. By this point he knew Sam wasn't going to do him any harm and all he could think about was feeling the full weight of him across his lap, feeling the tight heat burning around his aching cock. "God Sam I want you," he reached out for the man once he was settled.

Pushing his hair back off his forehead Sam crawled closer licking his way up Dean's shin, over his knee, his thigh then slipping onto the man's lap. His heart was racing and the water trickling down his back was tormenting him, his skin was on fire and he wanted Dean's hands on him.

He settled down on Dean's thighs, moaning as their cocks slid together briefly. Sam kneeled up, pressing against Dean's body - tongue darting out to outline the curves of his mouth. Taking in a shuddering breath Sam's arm slipping behind him to guide Dean's cock to where they both wanted it. Sam threw his head back as the head of Dean's cock nudged at his puckered entrance; he hissed in a breath and sank down slowly - taking the hunter deep within him.

"Jesus _fuck_ ," Dean gasped, hands sliding along Sam's shoulders, down his arms, to his hips. It took every imaginable part of him not to thrust up, to let Sam take it at his pace since clearly it had to burn more for him. For Dean it was just one big constant pulse of heat, so tight and clenching around him he thought there was a pretty good chance he was going to come right then and there.

He pulled in deep lung fulls of air, fingers tightening their hold on Sam's hips as the man slid all the way down and Dean was so encased with burning fire his mind felt like it was just about to melt and drip out his ears.

"Fuck Sam," he gasped, head falling back _hard_ against the headboard, hips shifting slightly, legs drawing up to pull Sam even closer into him.

Sam's hands curled over Dean’s shoulders and he crushed their mouths together. The burn in his ass was quickly becoming pleasure, each slide of his tongue past Dean's, each pass of their lips tilted Sam's world a little more. Moaning loudly he dragged his lips across Dean's cheek panting against his ear fingers curling up behind Dean's neck. "Dean," he whispered and started to move. Rocking forward against Dean's still damp chest Sam licked his way up the shell of Dean's ear, rocking back, he seated himself fully on Dean's cock - muscle clenching tightly around his lover.

Dean had been reduced to quick moans, falling in rapid succession from his lips every time Sam moved even in the slightest bit. Every inch of him was hyper aware of the touches, the heat, the way Sam moaned his name, dripping like honey through his system.

Dean tried to jerk his hips up but he was effectively held down by the strong weight of Sam across his lap and that... felt even better then everything else. He settled for pulling at Sam's hips, moving the man’s body along his cock in quick, short jerks. He could already feel his orgasm building, the sensations too much to handle for long, and Dean slid a hand between them roughly to curl around Sam's cock and stroke in time with the quick rise and fall of Sam's body.

Sam's shoulder curled in - the intensity of Dean's hand on his shaft driving him so close to coming he had to stop moving for a moment. " _God_ " he sputtered out as he dropped his mouth to Dean's shoulder and bit hard. He worked the flesh between his teeth for a few long moments and then let Dean's fingers burning into his hip guide his movements.

He rocked slowly at first then feeling the heat and burn of his own orgasm riding him hard Sam gave in and sped up - matching the glide of Dean's fingers over his own cock. He groaned against Dean's shoulder, one hand gripping Dean's hair the other tangling with Dean's fingers.

They were so tangled up in each other; Dean thought he could feel Sam along every inch of his body. His wrist worked to twist and maneuver even as Sam's movements quickened. The headboard began a quick knock against the wall as the bed shifted beneath them and Dean's toes began to curl under. "Fuck Sam- not gonna-" he was grunting the words, forcing them out passed his tight throat. And then it hit like a flash of fireworks across his vision, slamming into his senses so hard he nearly sent Sam flying off his lap with the force of his upward thrust. Every muscle in his body clenched tightly and he could feel his come seeping around his flesh, filling Sam, trickling down.

All it took to send Sam crashing into the wall of his release was the feel of Dean's cock, jammed inside him so deep, so hard and then the hot pulsing of his lover's come as it filled him up. Sam's hips shot forward into Dean's grasp and his cock pulsed painfully hard, his eyes slammed shut and he came.

His body throbbed against Dean's, mouth working its way blindly along Dean's neck as he moaned softly. His body writhed and slid and then slowly Sam fell against Dean, head buried in the crook of the other man's neck. His body twitched as his muscles relaxed and he licked gently at the sweat mingling with the shower water still on Dean's neck.

For just a moment Dean felt the urge to push Sam off, to put them in the sane and normal positions side by side on the bed. Then he felt gentle lips on his neck and he pulled in a deep lung full of Sam's scent, and that inclination to get away, to push away, dissolved.

Dean didn't let himself think about it, simply wiped his hand on the bed sheet before lifting both arms and curling them around Sam's back. In that moment, holding him close and tight to his chest, still buried deep within him, Dean knew things had officially shifted. Something had changed, a door had been unlocked and it was terrifying and wonderful and scary as fuck. Dean's chest shook as he pulled in another breath, hand cupping the back of Sam's head gently.

Sam turned his head and kissed the corner of Dean's mouth. He didn't want to let go but he knew that Dean always liked a little distance. Sam shifted up and let Dean's cock slip from within him. He moaned softly and took in a deep breath. He was trembling a little, could feel it all over his body. He felt too much for this one, it was gonna hurt like hell when Dean left him. _Like Hell_. "I'll move," he whispered and started to shift to the side.

"Don't," Dean gasped out, word rougher then he thought it should be. His arms around Sam tightened and he shifted slightly on the bed, straightening up against the headboard some so Sam could readjust his legs if needed. He pulled back enough to run their lips together in a few gentle swipes before he dropped his head to Sam's shoulder, burying his face in his neck and squeezing his arms.

Sliding his hand up to the back of Dean's neck, Sam moved his fingers slowly - massaging the muscles gently. Sam was scared to say a word, scared that he would say too much. His fingers slowly threaded through Dean's short hair and he slid a little to the side so he could press up against the side of Dean's chest, tucking himself under his armpit. He liked being wrapped around Dean, covering him, _held_ by him. It was good. And it was going to break Sam's heart.

Dean wasn't certain how much time passed, how long he hung on to Sam before he spoke, but eventually the words bubbled up and nothing he did seemed to stop them. "I don't know how to handle this," he whispered softly, fingers sliding along Sam's skin. "You make me _feel_. Like, filling in a hole." Dean stared at the wall, blinking slowly, feeling exhaustion tugging at him.

Stirring slightly, Sam tightened his grip on Dean's neck. "Me too," Sam mumbled, "m'gonna hate it when you leave me, break my heart." Sam's voice was thick, he was so tired and so satisfied, so warm. Kissing Dean's cheek he slid off his lap and rolled to the side of the bed. Pushing up he wobbled for a few moments then padded over to the bathroom and reappeared in a few moments with a warm cloth.

Kneeling back on the bed Sam wiped their drying come of Dean's body, running the cloth in long strokes across his body, then slowly running it up his soft cock. He smiled and got off the bed again and disappeared for a few more moments. When he came back to bed he kicked his way under the covers. "Come under," he murmured, tugging on Dean's hand.

Swallowing, chest tight from the sentimental gesture, Dean slid under the blankets with Sam and gathered him close, curling around his body as his eyes drifted closed. "Sam?" He murmured sleepily, hearing on the vaguest hum in return. "What if I don't want to leave?" The words were slightly slurred with sleep and if Sam had a response, Dean didn't hear it, letting go and drifting off to sleep while the thought still danced along his mind.

"Get the sour cream and onion flavored Pringles!" Dean hollered to Sam, smirking when Sam turned slightly back to him and waved a hand in a _yeah yeah_ gesture. They were about halfway to Kansas, taking their time with the drive since there was really no need to rush.

Dean loved driving; it was something that never got old. As he found out, he loved driving even more with Sam in the car with him. In the beginning they'd argued over the radio, but Dean insisted that, as the driver, he picked the music and Sam could just get over it. Sam did, and pretty quickly when Dean tugged at his belt loop and let him slid up against his side. They'd ridden that way for awhile until Sam started yawning and stretched out on the bench seat, curling up with his head in Dean's lap. It sent heat flaring through him and Dean spent the two hours Sam was napping sliding his hand slowly through Sam's hair, not as disturbed as he should be that he was practically petting the man.

The drive was long and Sam loved every minute of it. Actually, that wasn't entirely true; Dean was a bit bossy about the radio but Sam could forgive him for that. Sam celebrated their crossing the state line by convincing Dean to pull off the road into a rest stop so that he could give him a blow job. Sam figured every guy should have a blow job in his car at least once and he was pretty sure that the grin on Dean's face proved that he was in favour of it.

Sam bought an air freshener shaped like a dolphin in some crappy gas station somewhere and they wrestled in the front seat of the car over it until it went flying out the passenger window above Sam's head. The spent a lot of time laughing, a fair amount of time sitting in comfortable silence.

Sam spent a fair amount of time typing away on his laptop, he had decided to write about their trip. At first he had thought it would just be something he could throw together to write a story later on adoption but it had quickly turned into something far more personal.

He was writing, he found, about the little things; the way Dean looked at him in the morning, the smell of the car's interior, the red strands in Dean's hair when the sun hit it at just the right angle. Things he wanted to remember _just in case._

It wasn't too long a drive, considering the ones Dean had been on before, but they stopped at a cheap motel right along the Kansas border anyway. With all the leisurely stops they made along the day, it was mid evening so they ate a Mom and Pop joint, not talking but not uncomfortable either. Dean liked the companionable silence; it wasn't as lonely as his usually silent meals. And no waitress gave him sad eyes at seeing him sitting all alone.

The real reason they stopped and didn't push on through the last few hours came back at the hotel, where Dean learned that having Sam on his hands and knees on the mattress before him was just as good as Sam sitting on his lap. Though a lot more tiring.

And sleeping curled around Sam was better this time around, if only because he didn't feel like the world was going to shatter by holding someone.

They ate at the same place for breakfast, only this time their comfortable silence came with warm smiles and eyes darting down whenever one caught the other looking. Dean felt a little giddy and ridiculous about the whole thing but Sam's dimpled smile was worth it.

Soon they were in the car again, complete with coffees, Danishes and some other sticky sweet bun thing that Sam had bought on impulse. By the time he had finished eating it he was covered in sugar and made a point of kissing Dean as much as possible. They had to pull over to buy some wipes at the next gas station and Dean made Sam clean the steering wheel.

It could have been Sam's imagination but the thought that Dean was driving far slower than he had before but Sam didn't really care. The information he was seeking wasn't going anywhere.

By the time they arrived in Topeka Sam was a bit bleary eyed and leaned into Dean sleepily. He was happy when Dean finally picked a Motel and they were settled for the night. Sam padded around the room in a daze, and finally managed to persuade Dean to get into bed.

"You just want my sex," Dean sighed sadly, even as a smirk tugged up his lips and he settled on the mattress beside Sam, pulling him in and brushing their lips together. He really would never grow tired of kissing his lover. Nor would he grow tired of thinking of him in that way. His _lover_.

"M'tired, Dean." Sam mumbled against the other man's lips even as he rolled his hips forward gently. _God,_ it never really mattered how tired Sam was, sometimes, just being in Dean's arms could turn him on. His voice was so deep and gravelly and Sam could feel the man's heart thudding steadily in his chest.

"Cause you worked _so_ hard today," Dean teased, rocking his hips back into Sam's before rolling them over, falling between Sam's legs. "I think you need a good reason to be tired." He sucked kisses along Sam's neck. "I'd be willing to give you that, if you want."

Laughing softly Sam nuzzled up against Dean's lips. "You can give a good try if you want to." Sam hooked a leg over Dean's so he could lock their hips together.

Chuckling in return, Dean rolled his hips down into Sam's, groaning at the feel of friction. He leaned forward to slant their lips together but was cut off by the sharp shrill ring of his cell phone. Frowning slightly, Dean pushed up off Sam's body and stumbled over to it, frowning at the caller ID as he flipped it open. "Dad?"

"Just makin' sure you were in town. Ready to meet tomorrow morning at the diner on the corner of Sardou and Forest. You know which one I'm talkin' about?"

Dean sighed softly and glanced at Sam, rolling his eyes. "Yeah dad, we'll be there at ten o'clock. I think I can handle it." He smiled when Sam chuckled softly.

"So, you're with him now? Your friend?"

There was a shift in his father's voice that Dean recognized almost instantly. He suspected something. Was curious or interested or maybe didn't want to know at all but his brain was alert that there was something he didn't know and John wasn't the type of man to let unlearned knowledge slip him by. "We are. We just got here a few minutes ago."

"Gonna go out on the town tonight? Pick up some girls?"

"I don't think so," Dean's voice was tense, shoulders mimicking the action and he dropped down onto the edge of the bed, sighing softly. "I should go. See you tomorrow?"

"Alright. And son?"

"Yeah dad?"

"Just, well I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Dean stared at the phone as he brought it away from his ear. "Well, tomorrow should be interesting." He glanced over at Sam with slightly narrowed eyes before tossing his phone across the room to his duffel bag. After a moment he slid back to Sam's side, shifting into his warmth and slowly lowering his head to pillow on Sam's shoulder. Nerves were sparking up in him like bolts of electricity, not at all pleasant. He threaded his fingers through Sam's and closed his eyes. "What if he hates me?"

Sam's throat tightened a little, he'd sensed Dean's hesitancy and wondered if would actually say anything about how he was feeling. He smoothed Dean's hair back and kissed his temple.

"Dean, he's not going to hate you. At worst, he might be really angry. But people get over being angry and you don't have to tell him if you don't want to. You can save it for another time, if you think that's a better idea." Sam wasn't sure which option was better, but then he didn't know Dean's father and had no way of knowing what Dean should do. "Go with your gut, I guess," Sam said into Dean's hair.

What Dean did know was being with Sam felt more important than anything. Even if he'd only known the man for, what, a week? It felt like a whole life time. "I need to tell him," Dean said softly and slid his fingers slowly back and forth along Sam's chest. "Probably not in the morning, because, well I wouldn't subject you to the awkwardness that's going to be _that_ conversation. But as soon as possible."

"It doesn't change who you are," Sam pressed his lips to Dean's hair, breathing in the warm scent of him. "Do you want me with you when you tell him?" It was about the last place that Sam wanted to be but he already knew he would be there if Dean wanted him.

Chuckling softly, Dean shook his head. "No I think it's probably better if you're not. My dad is pretty smart. He'll figure things out and well, it's just better if you're not. And if he and I aren't in public." Rolling slightly, Dean once more fell between Sam's legs, hand coming up to cup Sam's jaw. A slow smile tugged up his lips and he slid forward to brush their lips together before resting his head on Sam's chest. He was pretty much smothering the man and he couldn't help chuckling again. "Can you breathe?"

"Like it," Sam mumbled as he wrapped his arms over Dean's shoulders, "love you all over me, everywhere." He sighed happily.

Turning his head into Sam's flesh, Dean kissed softly before settling in again. His chest rose and fell with a gentle sigh and he hummed slightly as his fingers slid along Sam's skin. It seemed almost impossible, that he would be in this place, connecting with Sam in a way he never had with anyone.

Dean didn't know if it was more terrifying to think he could feel like this toward anyone, or to think of what it might feel like without Sam there any longer. Resting his arm across Sam's chest, Dean tilted his chin in his forearm and gazed up at Sam's face. "What will you do? When we find out who your real family is? Will you try to talk to them?"

Smiling, Sam averted his eyes for a few moments. "I don't know, I suppose I would want to know them." He looked back, "I suppose we - I will have to contact them. They might not even want to know me - there could be a very valid reason why they sealed the records." Sam had thought long and hard about the reasons someone might go to such an extreme to cover their tracks. There could be some reasons Sam didn't want to know.

"We should find them. They owe you a reason, even if they only talk to you one time." Dean pressed another kiss to Sam's chest, smiling softly.

"I'm pretty good at finding people. So, you know, once we get a name we'll find them." He nodded reassuringly and let his hands slide up Sam's side, under his arms until he could pull both up above Sam's head, holding them at the wrist with one steady hand. Dean brushed his lips along Sam's jaw as their cocks slid together.

"You're kind of addicting," Dean whispered into Sam's lips, fingers curling around Sam's wrists tighter as he rolled his hips.

Some kind of sound left Sam's body - a cross between Dean's name and a long moan. He twisted his spine up into Dean's body. He pushed against Dean's grasp on his wrists, so aware of the barely contained power in Dean's arms, his grip. His tongue darted out, skimming across Dean's bottom lip then slipped past his lips to taste him.

"You know I can practically hear you begging for it," Dean growled, using his free hand to slide down and tug at Sam's waistline. Fingers pressing firmer into Sam's wrist, Dean maneuvered the material down until Sam could kick it off. "I could take you like this, right now, couldn't I?" He dipped his head down to suck Sam's earlobe into his mouth, dragging his teeth along it. "And you would beg. You can't get enough of my cock in you, can you?" Dean worked at his own waist line, struggling out of his pants without releasing his hold on Sam.

Sam could feel a flush crawling up his chest at the truth of Dean's words but it didn't stop him from working his hips up against Dean's as he struggled to breathe in. Sam's head fell to the side. "Don't need to beg," he mumbled fingers opening and closing, heels digging hard into the mattress as he arched up hard into Dean's body.

Chuckling throatily, Dean nodded. "S'very true."

He worked his lips along Sam's neck, kicking off his pants at the edge of the bed. In the next moment his hand was back against Sam's bare thigh, spreading the flesh, fingers probing.

"I don't think you even need any sort of prep huh?" Dean murmured, voice husky as his fingers danced along puckered flesh. "Just a smear of lube and I could take you right now."

Writhing and twisting under Dean, Sam's voice was soft as he turned into Dean's hair, "s-stop teasing and _do_ it."

Sam's lips pressed against whatever part of Dean he could reach. The muscles in Sam's arms corded, veins distended as he strained and struggled in Dean's grip. There was nothing hotter than Dean like this, possessive, in control and wave after wave of _want_ rushed through Sam's body leaving him quivering in their wake.

"Needy bitch," Dean teased and grinned at Sam as he clambered back and lunged for the bottle of lube he'd put on the nightstand earlier. When he fell back, hand dragging over his cock in slick movements, Dean shook his head before Sam could turn.

"Like this," he insisted and repositioned himself between Sam's legs. Hooking them over his shoulders, Dean gripped the base of his cock and slid forward, aiming at tight muscle, head falling back as wave after wave of pleasure rushed through him. Then he was all the way buried in tight heat and he moaned Sam's name like it was the only word he knew.

Exhausted as he was, Sam's body came alive under Dean's. Once his hands were freed he reached for Dean's shoulders and his chest, fingers clawing and scratching across the man's body. There was no part of Sam that was still even the muscles in his thighs quivered.

Sliding his rough palm down Dean's chest Sam moaned, then let his hand fall to his cock and squeezed gently. "Dean," he whispered and moaned over and over until it was nothing more than a series of sounds and whimpers.

They rocked against each other continuously. Dean's hips sliding down into Sam's, Sam's shifting back to meet his. Each thrust ricocheted through his body like fire, sparking along his skin as his eyes slid closed and he fell forward onto Sam's body, skin rubbing together with each pull back and slam forward.

Dean was fairly certain he thrust into Sam for hours, though time seemed to be still around them. Everything was simply made up of his lover's moans, the tight heat, the steady building of his orgasm with each glide forward.

Sam's hand moved quick and sharp over his cock in time with the heavy thrusts of Dean's body. Each thrust pushed him higher on the bed and when Dean angled differently and hit the sensitive nub of nerve endings deep within Sam he cried out, hand faltering, lips moving against Dean's cheek, his jaw ... anywhere.

He was panting, desire and the weight of his lover's body shoving the air out of his lungs. There was never enough of Dean; Sam's heart beat frantically as his hand slipped back to curl around his shaft falling into a shaky rhythm. His free hand snaked its way up Dean's chest and his nails dug into the sensitive flesh around Dean's nipple.

With a sharp gasp Dean jerked back, pulling all the way out of Sam, locking their eyes for a long moment before he slammed all the way forward. He repeated this action at least a dozen times, slow drags out and quick, sharp thrusts forward, hitting that spot in Sam every time that made the man moan and jerk and writhe like nothing he'd ever seen.

"Fuck Sam," Dean gasped sharply, hand coming up to curl into the back of Sam's head, pulling his body up roughly to slam their lips together, continuously rocking his hips down into Sam's, bringing them both closer to the edge until Dean knew he was only moments from his release.

Sam's body was lost to him in the ocean of pleasure and sensation flooding through him. The fire of his orgasm was pooling deep in his belly, hot and searing, scalding his senses and sending his mind spinning out of control. Dean's mouth on his, hot and wet as he pounded into Sam was all too much - Sam's hands slipped up to Dean's neck, fingers tangling in the short curls there.

Crushed between their bodies, Sam's cock throbbed and at the instant Dean's tongue thrust hard into Sam's mouth - his cock thrust deep inside him and Sam came. Slick ropes shot up Sam's chest as his cock pulsed again and again, muscles clenching around the hot flesh deep within him.

The way Sam's muscles clenched around Dean succeeded in pulling him over the edge in one sharp tug. His hips jerked erratically into Sam's ass, rapid and constant, orgasm spilling out of him in hot flashes of white across his veins. Wrenching his lips back from Sam's, Dean moaned loudly, letting his hips work slowly into Sam until he had spilled everything he had. Then he was collapsing onto Sam's chest, panting heavily, pulling out and rolling to the side so his lover could breathe. "Holy fuck," he whispered, forearm falling across his forehead.

As he body trembled and cooled Sam barely managed to roll his head to the side. Sweat damp hair was plastered to his forehead and his bottom lip was trembling slightly when he spoke. "Stay with me. Don't leave me after this." He closed his eyes, frightened of what he might see on Dean's face. "Or take me with you." He fell silent, lips parted, eyes squeezed shut.

Dean's heart clenched at the request, answers and excuses flickering through his mind. Sam had done a very good job at being patient with Dean, of never pressuring him. And even now, he said the words sadly, as if he knew that Dean would say no. Only thing was, Dean _couldn't_ say no. Leaving Sam... the very idea made his heart ache worse then he thought imaginable.

Gathering Sam into his body, Dean pressed a kiss to his temple, lips lingering on his skin. "Okay," he whispered, eyes falling closed.

There was still a smile on Sam's lips as sleep claimed him, his heart full and warm in his chest, fingers moving slowly in the soft hair on Dean's neck.


	5. Chapter 5

The diner was looming in front of Dean and it was a miracle he even managed to get his feet to work at all. Turning toward Sam slightly, he sighed and shook his head. "Man. I can't tell you how much I'm just not looking forward to this." He chuckled and scratched at his neck.

"I'm not telling him this time, that's what's important to remember. So we'll give him the information and see what he can do. Oh and Sam? You should know he's, not always the warmest with strangers, so if he seems a bit rude at all, it's just a safety thing okay?" Dean smiled softly at Sam, glancing around and spotting his father's truck in the lot. "I'd give you a kiss for good luck but he's already inside. Probably watching us."

"Don't worry." Sam grinned. "I've switched into Clark Kent mode - tough as nails, roving reporter. I just happen to be really sexy as well." He started to walk toward the diner and smiled back over his shoulder, "seriously, it'll be fine."

His smile was warm and said everything he couldn’t say with words or touch. Dean caught up to him and they walked over to the diner, Sam yanking the door open and looking around trying to guess which person was Dean's father.

"Clark Kent?" Dean murmured, looking over at Sam and grinning for a moment before he scanned across the patrons, eyes settling on his dad in the back booth. "This way," he jerked his head to the side and led them forward. He watched his dad slide out of the booth, rising to greet them, and his smile fell slightly, head tilting down in a nod. "Dad."

"Hello Dean." John stepped forward and gave Dean's shoulder a brief squeeze. "Been awhile. You're looking good. Good to see you've been takin' care of yourself."

Dean wondered if his dad could see the spark in his eyes, could _see_ how this last week had shaped and changed him in ways he'd thought impossible. "Yeah Dad, you too." He nodded jerkily and stepped to the side to gesture toward Sam. "Dad this is Sam. He's the, you know, he's the one who needs some help."

John's eyes flickered to Sam and Dean watched the faintest hint of surprise cross his eyes before it was glossed over. "Sam," he stepped forward, extending his hand. "John Winchester, nice to meet you."

"Hi there, Sir, pleasure to meet you," Sam gave him a firm hand shake and smiled. Sam moved to slide into the far side of the booth.

Dean slid into the seat beside Sam, letting their knees rest together as John settled in across from them. The waitress appeared a moment later and Dean ordered coffee for him and Sam. They had eaten earlier at a cafe by their motel, since Dean had insisted he'd rather focus on conversation than food. Once the waitress had gone John cleared his throat and considered Sam with a long gaze before turning to Dean. "So what can I do for you boys?"

"You want me to explain it to him?" Dean asked Sam, turning to look at him. He shifted on the booth until his leg was pressed the full length of Sam's, drawing in comfort from the touch.

"I can try," Sam smiled. "Maybe you can fill in any of the stuff you figured out." Sam's voice was quiet as he filled John in on the way he had been searching for his biological parents only to find out that all the records had been locked. He glanced at Dean once or twice waiting for him to nod and confirm some of the information that Dean has come up with. Finally, he explained that Dean had offered to come along with Sam and try to get them some information from State officials - after all - that's whom it appeared had locked up the file.

"Got any thoughts?" Sam blinked over at John, leg trembling slightly against Dean's. Sam saw without a shadow of a doubt where Dean got his command of authority from.

Dean watched his father's eyes lock on Sam for the majority of the story, darting down briefly to stare at his coffee. There was something odd about his expression that Dean couldn't put his finger on. It was as if John _knew_ something and Dean was instantly curious what it could be.

"Dad? What is it?" Dean's hand slid under the table, fingers brushing across Sam's thigh in comfort.

John pursed his lips before he asked, "What's your last name Sam?" Taking a long pull from his coffee, he set the mug down and added, "Where did you grow up?"

"My adopted parents name is Wesson - I don't know my birth name and I grew up in Colorado not far from where I live now, Black Forrest." He glanced at Dean out of the corner of his eye. "Do you know something? Something that might help?" Sam was struggling to resist the urge to cover Dean's hand with his so he clenched his hands together around his coffee cup.

"I uh, there's a few things." John blinked a few times at Sam, shifting forward then in one motion sliding out of the booth. "There's somethin' I gotta look into. I'll call." John's hand fell for a moment on Dean's shoulder, squeezing tightly before he was heading out of the diner.

Dean shifted in his seat, turning to glance at the retreating form of his father's back. "Well... alright." Shifting back, Dean looked over at Sam with slightly wide eyes. "I have no idea what that was."

Shrugging Sam blinked wide-eyed at Dean. "People usually find me quite likable. Apparently, whatever works on you doesn't work on your father." He nudged Dean gently with his shoulder.

"I don't think he doesn't like you." Dean smiled softly at Sam and squeezed his thigh. "I think it’s something else. But well... I guess we'll just wait for his call. I know Topeka's not exactly the ideal tourist location but uh, anything you'd like to do today? To pass the time?" His smile widened slightly as he chose to ignore the unease his father's expression had stirred up in him. If there was one thing he could count on, it was John giving him the right information when he needed it.

"Man, I would _love_ to stretch my legs, walk? Hang out, have a coffee - you know act like a normal couple for a while?" Finally, Sam let his hand fall to Dean's and he threaded their fingers together. "Yesterday, even though you may have _thought_ I was sleeping - I wasn't - I heard you say you're, uh, _keeping me_ so you'd better get used to it. I like walks, and I like fancy coffees." He grinned and looked down at the table.

Dean chuckled and shifted in the booth, pulling his hand out from Sam's and slipping it over his shoulders. "Man, fancy coffees? Like that venti mocha shit?" He scrunched up his face, turning to Sam. "How very _gay_ of you."

"Okay, maybe not quite that fancy I can settle for an Americano every now and again." Sam leaned into Dean's side and sighed softly, "I hope he finds them."

"If he doesn't, I will," Dean said softly and pressed a kiss into Sam's temple. "C'mon, let's go for a walk." He smiled at Sam as he pushed out of the booth. They threw a few bills on the table and headed for the door quietly together.

Dean didn't speak again until they were once more in the car, heading away from the diner. "You know Sam, I can't just stop hunting." Dean glanced over at him, lips slightly turned down. "It's, all I've ever done. My entire life. Since I was a kid."

Sam flopped down on the seat and rested his head on Dean's thigh. "Then I'll come with you, I'll quit my job. I can write freelance from anywhere with my laptop and wireless. Unless," he turned and looked up at Dean - fingers curled into Dean's shirt, "you don't want me. I get that. If you don't, I mean." He might be saying that out loud but if that was what Dean wanted, Sam gone - he didn't know what he would do.

"I like having you with me," Dean said softly, curling his own fingers around Sam's arm. "Is that? Will it be hard? To do the freelance thing? I mean, is it a pretty easy thing to get set up?" Dean wasn't sure it was going to be the easiest thing to have someone with him twenty four seven and he knew there would probably be times when Sam was more than annoyed with him, but he couldn't fathom the idea of leaving Sam behind so they'd just have to make it work.

"Yeah, easy, and you'll teach me to back you up. I'm a quick study remember? Saved your ass once already." Burying his face against Dean's belly, Sam laughed. The happiness that ran through him now that he was certain Dean wasn't going to leave him behind was remarkable.

"We'll see what we can do." Dean grinned and ruffled a hand through Sam's hair.

They pulled up to a park not long after, heading down the sidewalk. Dean let Sam curl their fingers together, shoving away the nerves and drinking in Sam's pleased smile. The sidewalk twisted through the park, winding around a small lake. Dean watched the sun glistening off the surface, not talking but enjoying the comfortable silence between them.

In Dean's line of work he'd seen a lot of couples and generally in their worst moments, which taught him that things like love and such did exist, even if he had never thought it was for him. Glancing over at Sam, Dean couldn't help wondering if this was what Sam would be for him. Someone to share the roughest moments and stick around afterward, no matter what the fallout.

Sam insisted that they pick up a bagged lunch from a deli he spotted and then he found a state park that was only a short trip from the city. He found a beautiful spot under a tree and settled them down, with books, some beer and sandwiches. They ate happily, joking about the expression they might see on John's face when he realized they were together; Sam got Dean to agree that not all their trips would be hunting, there might, in fact, be some trips that were just for fun.

After they'd eaten so much Sam thought he would explode, he leaned back against the tree and patted his thigh, convincing Dean to lie down. Stroking Dean's hair, Sam read his book only looking up occasionally to feel the warm sun on his face. When he glanced down at Dean later, he was asleep and Sam smiled warmly and went back to reading.

The ringing of his cell phone woke Dean and he sat up, blinking a few times before pulling the device from his pocket it. Staring at it for a moment, Dean shook his head to clear it of sleep fuzz and flipped it open. "Hello?"

"Dean, I need to see you. Just you. Are you available to meet in an hour?"

Like Dean had much of an option when it came to a request from his father. "Sure." After a few more minutes in which John gave him the name of his motel and room number, Dean flipped his phone shut and turned to Sam. "I think he found something."

"Really," Sam snapped his book shut, "are we meeting him somewhere?" Sam's eyes were wide; he hadn't thought that John would have information for him so quickly.

"Actually, he just wants to see me. So, would you mind waiting in the car? Or do you want me to drop you off at the motel room?" Dean stretched his arms up, popping his back. He wasn't sure why his dad just wanted to see him and the thought was a little disconcerting to say the least.

"Okay." Sam's brain started ticking away over what might have gone wrong. "Is it... do you think it's something bad?" He pushed up from the ground and started clearing things up, putting the food back into the bags.

Dean shrugged, wetting his lips. "It's hard to say. My dad... he's an odd sort of guy." Dean tried to smile reassuringly at Sam but his lips faltered. There was something off about his dad's tone of voice and Dean didn't have the slightest idea what that could mean. "So you'll wait in the car? I don't think it will take long."

"Sure," Sam started to walk back toward the car. "I'm sure it's nothing. Maybe right after you're done you'll have a name and I can call someone, you think?" He smiled shakily at Dean as he shoved the food into the backseat of the car. "Besides, if he didn't find anything, I've still got you right?" He stared across the shining roof of the car into Dean's eyes.

"Right." Dean nodded, smiling softly as he climbed into the car. Dean followed the simple directions his dad had given him, smiling softening still as they headed away from the park. "I'm sure whatever it is my dad probably just doesn't want to talk about how he got the information. Hunters are secretive by nature."

"I'll try and remember that." Sam smiled but he fell silent for the rest of the car ride. He couldn't help worrying about what John had to tell them. Years of nothing and then suddenly, some kind of answer. It didn't have to be _the_ answer, but he was certainly hoping that whatever information John had would get him closer to his parents.

As they pulled up to the motel parking lot, Dean parked a few spaces down from his father's truck, turning to Sam and leaning forward for a quick brush of their lips together. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

Sam's tongue licked across his bottom lip, tasting Dean and he smiled. "I'll be here, playing with your radio."

Dean scoffed, chuckling as he stepped out of the car and headed toward his dad's hotel room. He'd hardly raised his hand to knock when the door was being pulled open. "Alright," he blinked a few times and stepped past his dad into the motel room, glancing around, eyes landing on a file on the table. "What's going on dad?"

"Dean, I'm gonna ask you a question and I need you to be honest with me," John lingered by the door for a moment, eyes peering out into the parking lot before he shut the door and turned to Dean. "Are you gonna be honest with me?"

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" Dean frowned deeply, itching to scan the papers and see what John had found. Instead he folded his arms across his chest and stared at the man. "What is it dad?"

John cleared his throat a few times before crossing to the mini fridge and pulling out a couple beers, offering one to Dean silently. Dean watched him drain the contents, wiping the back of his mouth with one hand before he released his breath in a long sigh. "Please tell me there's nothing going on between Sam and you."

Swallowing a large gulp of the beer, Dean's heart lurched unpleasantly. This had certainly been the last thing he expected. "Uh... why?"

"Dean. I need you to tell me you're not involved with Sam."

"Dad I don't know-" Dean shook his head roughly, dropping his arms and staring at his dad in shock. "What the hell is wrong?"

"This," John crossed to the table and snatched up the folder, carrying it over and thrusting it at Dean. "This is why you need to tell me there's nothing going on with him."

Dean stared at his dad in shock before pulling back the papers, eyes scanning over them slowly. Words jumped out at him, things like _adoption_ and _Sam_ and _Winchester_. "Dad...? What is this?" Dean looked up and his dad just shook his head, jerking at the paper with a second beer he'd retrieved. Dean's mind was getting a little fuzzy, things clicking together, making sense in a way they shouldn't be. He swallowed and forced his eyes back down at the papers, flipping through to the next. _Wesson_ and _Colorado_ and... signatures. His dad's. Their's. A picture of a little baby, no more than six months old. November 1983. "But. But you said." Dean stumbled backwards, falling hard against the wall, papers fluttering from his hand. "Sam's. You can't. _No_. You _said_ he died."

"I couldn't raise you both, not alone. And even as a baby Sam looked so much like your mother. I couldn't bare- He needed to have a better life." John's voice was soft, like a whisper, like he was ashamed of what he was saying and Dean thought he should be.

"So what? You just gave him up? Shipped him off to live with some people you didn't even know?" Dean shook his head, bending down to pick up the papers. His heart was racing so fast it hurt. This couldn't be happening. Because if it was that meant Sam was his brother. And Sam couldn't be his brother because he was his _lover_.

"Dean..." John wet his lips, draining the second beer and folding his hands together in front of him, sitting on the edge of the bed. "There's something going on between you and Sam isn't there?"

"I-" Dean stared down at the ground, blinking rapidly. "Dad. Sam he. He makes me... what the _fuck_ am I supposed to do now? Why the hell did you keep this from me?"

"Because you would have gone lookin' for him the minute you could and Sam isn't like us. He grew up in a normal world." John pushed up, shaking his head.

"Look Dean, whatever happened. You didn't know. But you end it now, you hear? You take him back to Colorado and you leave him there. And you put it all behind you."

Dean laughed humorlessly jerking his hand toward the wall, parking lot just beyond it. "He's been waiting his whole life to meet his real parents and you're gonna let him go? Without - what the _fuck_ dad? Sam deserves better then that! And I can't just. I can't just let him go. It's too late for that."

John's shoulders were tense and Dean could tell he was pushing the limits of his dad's patience. "Dean. You better take a moment to get a hold of yourself before you say something you're gonna regret."

"Yeah, you're right. So I'm gonna go and you're not leaving until you tell Sam why you gave him up." Dean was torn in about a thousand ways at once and he swallowed a few more times. "He's out in the car. So I'll send him in if he wants to, and dad? If you go before then I swear to god I'll - "

"You'll what?" John bristled, jaw clenching.

Dean headed toward the door, hesitating with his hand on the knob, fingers clutched around the papers, "I'll never talk to you again." He forced the words out, so _angry_ and _hurt_ he could hardly stand it. His brain was numb, shock struggling against the betrayal and just underneath the idea that the man he was pretty much in love with was his _brother_.

If John said anything Dean didn't hear it. He closed the door roughly behind him and stared down at the papers in his hand, pulling in several deep breaths in attempts to calm himself.

Dean walked slowly toward the car, body beginning to shake. It seemed almost inevitable now. Dean would tell Sam the horrible awful truth, that _their_ father abandoned him, and Sam would leave. And Dean would be left with a huge gaping hole in his heart just because he had the shit awful luck of falling in love with the one person in the world who just happened to be his brother.

Dean tugged open the driver's side door, sliding behind the wheel and staring straight ahead, emotions slamming through him like rapid-fire.

Sam looked up at Dean with a smile. "I didn't change - Dean?" Dean's face was pale, his lips drawn into a thin line. "Dean?" Sam slid closer and reached out to slide his hand behind the other man's neck. "What did he find out? Did he find them?" His heart started to speed up a little.

That touch on his skin made his heart speed up and Dean thought that there should be some accompanying feeling of disgust. Right? Because people didn't do these things with their brothers. But it was too late. Dean was already too far gone and even finding out that Sam was the brother he'd lost so long ago wasn't going to change that. "Yes. He found them," Dean held out the papers slowly, pursing his lips.

"We going to them?" Sam pulled his hand away from Dean and grabbed the papers, his eyes moved over them quickly. It didn't take long for Sam to read to the bottom of the first page where he found the signatures of his adoptive parents and John Winchester's. Sam's brow furrowed and he glanced up at Dean. "What?" Sam looked back down at the paper and his hands started shaking. "Dean?"

"He's gonna wait in there. For- for you to talk to him," Dean breathed, curling his hands onto the steering wheel. "I told him he owes you that. An explanation. I. If you need someone to. If you want me go with you, I will." He couldn't bring himself to look at Sam. Didn't want to see the disgust on his face as it slowly dawned on him that he'd been allowing his _brother_ to fuck him for the past week.

It felt like all the air was gone out of the car. Sam pushed his door open and swung his feet down letting his head drop forward. He heaved in a few breaths threw the papers on the ground and pushed up walking straight toward the Motel room he'd seen Dean come out of. Grabbing the door handle he turned it and flung it open shaking so badly he could barely stand. "How the _fuck_ did you decide to give me away?" Eyes blazing Sam stood a few feet away from John.

It only took a few moments for Dean to kick start his mind, getting his feet into gear and stumbling quickly after Sam. He made it in the room just in time to hear the end of the question and watch John's eyes widened with surprise. Dean slowly closed the door behind him, leaning against the hard wood. He doubted he would say anything, but he'd be there for Sam should he need the back up.

"Sam," John swallowed and leveled his gaze on Sam, clearly shaken by the whole thing. "I - your momma had just passed on. You were just barely six months and I couldn't raise both you and your brother. I wanted you to have the chance for a better life. To grow up normal."

"Normal." Sam echoed. Within a few minutes his entire life was yanked out from under him. "A normal life? I – you-" A tear trailed down his cheek.

"Dean and I, we were going to-" Sam blinked a few times then scrubbed his hand across his face. "I won't _ever_ look for you again, I expect the same courtesy from you." He spun and made for the door, stopping in his tracks when he saw Dean. "G..Get out of my way." He walked over to the door and waited, hand on the knob for Dean to move.

In that one moment Dean could feel his heart shatter, he looked up at Sam in shock, blinking a few times to fight back the surprise burn along the rims of his eyes. "Sam," he whispered quietly before sliding to the side, heart aching so bad he thought he was going to collapsing from the weight of it.

Sam had no idea where he was going. He started to walk in the direction of the setting sun; images were flooding through his mind, the look on Dean's face earlier while he'd been sleeping, the papers with his parent's signatures, John's eyes. Eyes that looked so much like Dean's. _Dean_ , his brother.

Soon, his tears were uncontrollable and he was stumbling rather than walking - the bumps in the road distorted. He'd wanted Dean and he’d wanted a brother and now he had both and neither. He couldn't be Dean's lover and there was no way he could make his heart let go enough to be Dean's brother. So... he walked.

"Dean," John said quietly, walking toward his son.

All Dean could do was stare at the open door, wishing that Sam would appear there once more and take him with him wherever he was going.

"Do you realize," Dean whispered quietly, looking over his shoulder at his dad. "All these years I've felt so alone. Never trusted anyone. Never let myself _feel_. And when I finally get that. When I..." Dean swallowed thickly and shook his head. "Why didn't you ever tell me he was alive dad? Why did you deny me the right to know my brother? What gives you that right?"

"I understand that something's happened Dean," John continued his quiet words. "Maybe you can just go talk to him. You two can be brothers now."

Dean shook his head slowly and stepped passed the threshold, glancing up at his dad. "No. I'm pretty sure it's too late for that." He sighed, dropping his head. "See ya around dad." He didn't look up at the man before heading to his car, sliding behind the steering wheel and jamming the key into the ignition.

It was easier to find Sam then he thought it would have been, but then again, walking wasn't going to get him anywhere fast in comparison to Dean driving. The man looked so dejected and miserable, even from behind, and Dean pulled over, jumping out of the car and crossing quickly too him. "Sam. Wait."

Sam stopped in his tracks, turning slowly to face _his brother_. He swiped at the tears on his face, blinking as he tried to see clearly. "W..What?"

"You can't. You can't just _go_ ," Dean breathed out, stepping toward him nervously. "Can. Let me give you a ride back to the motel room? So we can talk? Please?" Dean's heart was thudding so hard in his chest it hurt and he'd probably do just about anything to get Sam to go with him.

Closing his eyes for a few moments, Sam nodded and started to walk slowly toward the car. Where else was he going to go? He was in the middle of Kansas, didn't know anyone other than a father he never wanted to see again and... a brother. Fumbling with the car door, Sam swore softly and finally managed to tug it open. Sinking into the seat he closed the door and leaned against the window.

Dean drove silently toward the motel. His stomach clenched and twisted but not for any of the reasons he thought it should. When they pulled up in front of their room Sam was out of the car in a flash. Dean followed more slowly, stopping just inside the room and closing the door behind him. "You know I didn't know right?" He asked softly, staring down at the floor with sad eyes.

Sinking down onto the end of the bed Sam nodded. "I know, it's not like you would have -" Sam's voice was thick, his face flushed and damp. He didn't know what to do, not the slightest clue as to how to move forward.

"Listen, I can. I can pack up and you can drop me of at a bus depot or somethin'." Even as he said it a sick feeling ran through him, bile rising up his throat. It was hard to tell if he was sickened by the idea of staying or the idea of leaving.

"I don't-" Dean sighed and shook his head, walking slowly to the edge of the bed and dropping down. "Is it wrong? That I don't want you to go? That I don't want any of this to change? It's not like we _knew_." He sighed heavily, and let his arms press down into thighs.

Sam looked over at Dean, eyes brimming with tears again, "but we do now." He looked away quickly afraid that Dean would read on his face what he couldn't say. He didn't want to leave. With every part of his being he wanted to stay, but how could he do that? How could _they_ do that?

"So. What? You're just gonna go?" Dean scratched at the back of his neck, looking up at Sam with hurt eyes. "Because I can't- We can't just be brothers now. You know that right? It doesn't work like that. Not after -" Dean shook his head, blowing out a steady breath and dropping his gaze.

"I didn't say I was leaving, could you... do you think you could just gimme a minute to catch up before you start giving me ultimatums?" Sam's hands were clenched into fists on his thighs. _Not after_.

Dean clenched his jaw, eyes sliding along the floor. There wasn't much he could offer, not much to say considering he was just as shocked as Sam was. "I don't know what to do," he said softly, curling his fingers into the bed spread around him.

The blankets were still bunched from before and if Dean inhaled deep enough he could smell Sam. Could smell _them_. It made his heart clench even more.

Sam turned quickly and threw himself against Dean's chest, burying his face in Dean's neck. Once he started to shake he couldn't stop, he just concentrated on trying to yank air into his lungs and push it back out. It felt like his entire world had rolled off its axis and was spinning out of control.

Arms wrapped around Dean, Sam just breathed in Dean's scent and waited. He waited for some sort of solution to come to him, an answer, a way to figure out if there was a mistake and that John was wrong.

Dean curled his arms around Sam, holding him as tight as possible against him. Almost instantly comfort washed through him and Dean drank it in eagerly, trying to use it to control the rush of thoughts slamming into his mind. "Why can't we be together?" He asked quietly. He was being selfish and he knew that. But Dean had never been selfish before. So what if he was asking Sam to basically forget about things that were supposedly wrong and right, morals and whatever. Dean could look past it, if Sam could.

"Don't," Sam murmured against Dean's neck. "Just. I can't right now." Every muscle in Sam's chest clenched making it difficult for him to breath. "I'm g..glad you can put it aside. I don't know if I can right now." He pulled himself back from Dean's neck so he could look into his eyes. "I wanted to just love you and start hunting or something, maybe have a home somewhere. I need a little bit of time." The shaking was beginning to subside and Sam was just empty. He pulled himself impossibly closer to Dean sliding down sideways so he rested across Dean's lap.

Dean sighed and let his arms rest against Sam's body. There wasn't anything more to say really. Sam needed time, Dean could understand that. He let Sam cling to him and he didn't move his hands, just waited.

Pulling back again - Sam looked up, eyes tired and red. "Can we…" He nodded up at the pillows, wanting desperately to close his eyes and get some relief from the insanity that had descended upon them.

"Sure," Dean nodded, straightening up to tug off his coat and toe out of his boats. Lying down seemed like a really good idea. Maybe they could go to sleep and when they woke up this would all just be some horrible nightmare. After a moment of hesitation he kicked out of his jeans and slid back, climbing under the blanket and holding out his arms for Sam.

Tugging off his shirt, Sam stumbled as he yanked his boots off then removed his jeans slowly. Padding around the bed in his socks he climbed under the covers and pressed up against Dean's chest, arm slipping over the other man's waist. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

"Nothin' to be sorry for," Dean said softly, pressing a kiss to Sam's forehead. It felt good to have Sam against him, despite everything. He let his hands curl along Sam's back, flattening against the flesh and sliding slowly up and down. "We'll figure it out. It's what I do."

Sam wished harder than he had ever wished for anything that they could _figure this out_. Sam only wanted to turn back the clock so he could just _not_ go looking for his parents. Maybe if they'd never asked John for help. Sure, they might have found out sooner or later about their connection but this ... this was too soon for the turmoil, the emotional upheaval. Sam's mind was closing down, he thought about calling work to let them know he wouldn't be back but he was so tired - and he wasn't sure anymore if that was the truth.

Dean woke before Sam, no surprise, and he detangled himself from the man and moved slowly around the room. He showered, dressed, went about things as if the man in his bed wasn't his _brother_. As if this wasn't a revelation that shook him to his core.

He packed his things, and when Sam wasn't up yet, he packed his. The bags sat lined together in front of the dresser and Sam was _still_ asleep. With a quiet sigh Dean moved to the window, pulling open the blinds and leaning against the glass. His brain had somewhat adjusted to the shock, but that was the only thing he'd adjusted too and for now, it didn't seem like things were going to be straightening out any time soon.

Sam rolled over and had a brief moment of panic when Dean wasn't there beside him; he rolled back the other way and saw Dean standing in the window.

"Hey," Sam's throat was bit scratchy. He glanced around the room and noticed that everything was packed. His fingers curled hard around the edge of his pillow, "you in a rush to get rid of me?" He meant it to be a joke and it would have been even just twenty-four hours earlier but now ... he felt like he actually needed to hear the answer.

"Just want to get out of this town," Dean said softly, rubbing his fingers down the glass before stepping away and toward the bed. He wanted to make sure Sam knew that, as far as Dean was concerned, he didn't want this thing to stop between them. Dean dropped onto the bed beside him, reaching out to brush hair from his eyes, forcing himself not to hesitate. "Sleep okay?"

"On and off," he caught Dean's hand quickly and pressed it to the side of his own face. It felt like the touches would be taken away, like Sam should be counting them somehow or keeping track. "Can you promise me we'll be okay?" His eyes locked with Dean's, "just promise me." He closed his eyes and turned into Dean's hand.

Dean curled his fingers along Sam's jaw and smiled softly. "I could promise, but I'd be lying," he sighed softly and dragged his finger over Sam's lower lip. "But... the only reason I can't promise is because I had a pretty emotionally stunted childhood and I have this tendency to be a dick sometimes. And, it's nothing to do with what we just found out. I wouldn't have been able to make the promise before then. Now if we're just going biased off this... thing. Then yeah, I can promise you, in regards to that, we're gonna be okay," Dean blinked a few times and chuckled. "That wasn't at all what you wanted to hear was it?"

"No, it wasn't." Sam rolled away and pushed up off the bed. Combing his fingers through his hair Sam forced a smile. "I'm gonna shower, I'll get ready as fast as I can." Padding across the motel room he paused briefly at the door then went into the bathroom and closed the door.

Sam leaned against the closed door for a few moments staring at his reflection in the mirror. He looked the same as he had the morning before, didn't look like someone who had thought he'd lucked out and was getting pretty much everything he wanted only to find out that nothing was what he thought it was. No, he didn't look like that guy. Sam had a quick shower, slung a towel round his hips and walked back out. "You leave me any clothes out?"

Pushing up from the behind where Dean had still been sitting, he gestured to the bag where a pair of jeans, boxers and a t-shirt sat. Clearing his throat, he moved to the kitchen table and dropped in the chair pulling on his socks and boots. At some point it had occurred to Dean that he just sucked at all this, and he probably always would, and if Sam decided he wasn't worth it then he'd go because he couldn't blame the guy. Dean was pretty much the definition of relationship retarded.

Sam grabbed his clothes and started to get dressed. "What's wrong?" His eyes moved to Dean's fidgeting fingers as he wrestled his t-shirt down over his head.

"This and that." Dean shrugged and stood up, crossing to the bags. "I'll just get these loaded. Is it alright if we just hit up a drive thru on the way out of town?"

"I guess so." If Dean didn't want to talk anymore - Sam would let everything be quiet. Sam moved over and picked up his bag once he had finished dressing, slinging it up on to his shoulder. "I'm ready." He stood there waiting for Dean to open the door.

Dean nodded and tugged open the door, head for the car and throwing his bag in. They stopped at McDonalds and Dean forced himself to eat the burger he'd ordered even though it tasted a little like grit. The first hour passed in silence, both so lost in thought they didn't even turn on the radio. Sam was slouched against the door and Dean had to contemplate his form for at least a hundred mile markers before he finally reached out and tugged on his shirt, dragging him across the seat and to his side. For one horrible moment Dean thought Sam might scoot away and he raised his hand, settling it on the back of Sam's neck. "Please?" He asked quietly, eyes fixed on the road ahead of them.

Sam folded into Dean's side hand settling on his thigh. It was where he'd wanted to be since the moment they got in the car but ... it wasn't surprising that he was confused about everything. Dean packing their things, rushing them out of the motel, it felt like they were driving straight toward the end for _them_.

In Sam’s mind, he'd already figure out what was going to happen; Dean was going to drop him off at his apartment, then disappear and that would be it. Sam would hear the car drive away one last time and then - he'd have to put the pieces of his life back together. He slid further down so he could rest his head on Dean's shoulder.

The car kept moving forward and Dean couldn't get his throat to work until at least an hour later. He tried to allow Sam's presence to calm him, since it seemed like the only thing that would, and then, quite suddenly, his mind flipped into gear. More clear than it had been in twenty four hours.

"The only thing keeping us from being together is us," he said softly, letting his hand slide up and down Sam's arm. "If. If we'd never found out. Then we would have continued down the path of being together right? So, we're brothers. And that's... a pretty damn big shock, not gonna lie. But, so what?" Dean clenched his jaw and tightened his fingers on Sam's arm.

"Yeah, except now what we're doing is illegal in most states." Sam had meant it as a joke... he honestly had but nothing seemed quite as funny now. "It's not just us you know, I found - I thought I had found a family - or might find. _Fuck_ you know what I mean. Now, sure, I've got a father who is _never_ going to want anything to do with me because I'm _fucking_ his son." He wished he could take the words back the instant he'd said them, but really, it couldn't do much more damage.

Sighing softly, Dean curled his fingers around the steering wheel, tightening them. "But. I can be your family."

"You gonna be my dead mother too?" Sam spat.

Dean recoiled, arm sliding out and away from Sam, body stiffening. "I lost her too. It's not like I don't know that. Fuck, I thought both my little brother and my mom had been consumed in a fire by a _demon_ and I've had to deal with that my whole life. At least you got the chance at normality. You know by the age of five I knew weapons better then I knew my ABC's? Or how about the fact that I never got the chance to go to school. That I salted and burned my first body when I was _nine years old_. You're the only fucking good thing that's ever happened in my life and now I'm just going to lose you too." Dean huffed angrily, head shaking. He added belatedly, "Again."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that," Sam slid back over to the window and leaned against it. "I didn't know. We don't really know each other." He stared out the window watching the grass and fences whip past the car.

Dean instantly missed Sam's heat at his side and he exhaled slowly, pulling over to the side of the road at the next available patch of dirt. His hands curled along the top of the steering wheel and he rested his head against his forearms, trying to calm the tidal wave of emotions coursing through him.

He'd tried to think of everything he could to convince Sam that they could be okay and he just continued to do it wrong. Coming up against wall after wall. But Dean lived in a world where the lines between right and wrong were so blurred, it was almost impossible to tell if you were veering one way or the other. There was no _illegal_ in his book. Rules were meant to be broken. And Dean didn't have any moral compass to speak of. Sam's world... was not his.

His shoulders shook slightly as it hit him that there was no way it was going to work between them. It would be unfair of Dean to push him into this shit ass life. Their father had given Sam a chance at a real life and Dean was ruining it by trying to pull him in. "This isn't going to work is it?" Dean asked quietly into his arms.

Sam turned to face him slowly. "You... you said it could." He didn't even realize until Dean gave up - how much he'd been holding on to Dean's belief that things would somehow, get better.

"Well, we either go one way, or we go the other." Dean lifted his head to look at Sam, shifting on the seat to face him. "I know you need time. And really, I get that. The shock... all of it is a big deal. It's a little easier for me because I'm adjusted to getting my mind blown, not on this level, but pretty close." Dean shrugged, glancing out the windshield before sliding forward slightly and laying his hand on Sam's knee. "Here's the thing. I know it's illegal, but it's not like we have to broadcast it. And I know I'm asking a _lot_ from you. So you have every right to turn me down. But you and me. What we have - it's good. Not just because you're my first real, whatever," he gestured with his hand. "And not really because you're my brother either. But because..." taking a deep breath, Dean let the words trickle out with the exhale. "Because you fill some spot in me that's always been empty before. And I've never _wanted_ to be with someone like this until you." He wet his lips after a moment, squeezing Sam's knee once more before withdrawing.

Sam banged his head against the window a couple of times. "I just _really_ wanted to find out, and have it be okay. I wanted to make a phone call and speak to a lady who would be hesitant to hear from me but really glad eventually. I had it all figured out in my mind, Dean. She would have been so proud of me, that I made a point of saying how much I loved my adoptive parents, made a point of saying that they were my parents and I was glad that she had given me a chance to meet them. And, my Dad would have been the quiet, silent guy who was secretly pretty proud that he had a reporter for a son. Maybe a brother." Sam's breath hitched and he rolled his head against the glass, "or a sister, some nieces or nephews. I know that I'm supposed to get used to _not_ thinking about that. I get that part of this, but it's all gone now. I gotta fill it up that space ... with something else." He reached out behind him, fingers grasping for Dean.

Swallowing thickly, Dean took Sam's hand and squeezed it, eyes fixing out the windshield. After awhile of silence he whispered, "When I was younger, I used to make up these stories in my head. Before I realized how god damn awful life could be sometimes I used to try and make deals with god. I'd say, alright god, I'm gonna think up this story and when I wake up, if I'm in that life, I promise to never do a bad thing for the rest of my life." Dean chuckled humorlessly, eyes dropped down to stare at his hand locked with Sam's.

"Then I'd imagine I lived in a nice big house, with my dad. And mom, Mary by the way," Dean caught Sam's eyes and smiled slightly. "Her name was Mary. Anyway, we'd be in our nice big house, and me and my brother... we'd build Lego cities and blow them up with Dinosaur toys. Or we'd all go to the park and have a picnic together and mom would make double chocolate chip brownies." Dean sighed softly, his smile morphing into something sad.

"And every morning I'd wake up and still be in some shit hole motel. And my dad would still be off on some hunt, leaving me to wonder if this was going to be the time he wouldn't come back. And. I just... stopped. Stopped trying to make promises or imagine something better." He shrugged and let go of Sam's hand, bringing fingers up to rub into his hair.

It was the most Dean had ever said to him at once. Sam had slowly turned so he was facing Dean, watched the man's face as he spoke. "Maybe you should try once more." He slid back across the seat so he was closer, still not touching Dean. "Maybe you should try a promise and see how it feels." His fingers moved on to Dean's thigh. "Maybe you should promise me that you'll always come back - you know - when you go on a hunt and I'm waiting for you somewhere. You should try promising that."

Dean reached up to Sam's face, cupping his palm along Sam's jaw. "I will always come back to you," he said softly, letting his eyes lock with Sam's. Pulling in a deep breath, he exhaled just as slow and let his thumb brush along Sam's lip. "I promise." His lips tilted up in a slight smile. "Didn't feel too bad."

"Okay," Sam's eyes closed. "Then we start there. Shouldn't you be driving me home so we can get my stuff?" He leaned into Dean's touch. One thing at a time.

Smiling softly, Dean nodded. He moved as if to slide behind the steering wheel but stopped mid motion, eyes sliding back to Sam. "Can I... would it be okay if we..." a faint blush colored his cheeks as he turned his head down. "Can I kiss you?" He asked quietly.

Sam ducked his head and slipped forward to press his lips against Dean's. Still, after everything they'd been through, the gentle sweep of Dean's warm lips against his tugged on Sam's heart. Dean was right in so many ways; there was something special between them. Sam still needed time, he knew that, a _lot_ of time. But - the way those lips felt, the way they sent sparks rushing down his spine made Sam believe it was worth the pain they would have to push through.

Dean let their lips slide together for a few moments before he pulled back and ran his hand along Sam's cheek. "Okay, let's go get your stuff." He smiled softly and slid into the spot behind the steering wheel, tugging Sam into his side. Just where he was supposed to be.

There was nothing easy about it – the transition, the way there was so much for them to accept. At first, Sam got better at pretending things were okay, and Dean got more skilled at smiling when he really wanted to punch something. They moved through the days without talking about _it_.

Sam was trying to slip back into his role as the questioner, the guy who was looking for answers all the time but he just didn’t have it in him anymore. He just couldn’t get past the fact that he’d found answers and it hadn’t worked out quite the way he’d imagined.

Dean was trying to keep his head above water. Before they had found out they were brothers Dean had been struggling to adjust to the way Sam was, the touching, the loving, and the being there. Now, things were different again and some mornings he woke up feeling like he was drowning again.

They kissed, their lips were still soft when they touched and Dean still folded his body around Sam at night - but there was nothing more. Their reasons might have been different but the end result was the same.

For the first month Dean refused to answer any calls from their father, flicking off the phone any time they came through. Sam never asked who they were from but Dean knew he knew. It was one of the more sore subjects in the adjusting to everything.

Dean felt betrayed, Sam's hopes had been dashed, and neither were ready to even cross the _dad_ issue yet. If ever. That was something only time could tell.

The best thing for Dean, in trying to get past everything, was to go back to hunting. Sam was even willing to do the research for the hunts, and Dean taught him the things to look for, the signs that something might not be right. Even with the seemingly constant underlying tension, Dean never regretted his decision. Sure, sometimes he felt more confused and torn than should be possible but he needed Sam with him. And Sam felt the same, never once voiced an opinion about taking some time apart. Each time things got too intense, feelings bubbling under the surface and threatening their barely balanced _whatever_ , Dean had to fling to the hope that they would, one day, get passed this.

There wasn't a particular moment that Sam could pinpoint when things started to feel better. It might have been the way Dean settled into the car each morning and drove, nearly always pulling Sam over to his side. It could have been the fact that Sam stopped wishing for things to be different. Sam didn't know but things changed.

He stopped thinking of Dean as his brother or his lover and started to just think of him as _Dean_. It made things easier, it made things better. When he wasn't researching, or taking notes, or reading them back to Dean in the car Sam started to lie across the front seat again, head cradled on Dean's lap. Dean started to card his fingers through Sam's hair. The miles went by a little faster and Sam fell asleep rocked by the motion of the road and comforted by the scent of _Dean_.

As it turned out, they actually made a pretty dynamic duo, as hunters and friends and that _whatever_ Dean had never been able to label in his mind. With the transition back into that blissful week before they knew, things began to get lighter between them.

Sam attempted to fiddle with the radio, Dean slapped his hands away. Dean teased him about his girl hair cut - which he secretly loved - and Sam teased him about overcompensating with his butch attitude.

If the hunt he was on was fairly light, Dean brought Sam along, slowly teaching him the basics. And Sam was a fast learner, picking up how to use a gun easily enough from the few times he'd been hunting with his family before. Dean still didn't answer his father's calls but he did call him once, relieved to hear the voice mail and left a message just long enough to let the man know he was okay. Sam was okay. Dean didn't make a promise about seeing him any time soon and John's next voice mail had been a simple thanks. All in all, Dean was beginning to feel much better, and smiling came a little easier, and he knew they were getting there.

By the time Fall came around Sam's fingers were itching to be on Dean's skin. He didn't say a word, frightened that Dean wouldn't be ready. They'd fallen in to such a pattern - and things were so good that Sam had felt a little stuck for a while.

One night, Sam didn't wait for Dean to gather him against his body as he did most evenings. Sam reached out for Dean. His hands shook for a long time, fingers barely able to move over Dean's chest, his ribs without them twitching and he fought the urge to retreat with every inch.

The thing that kept him there, kept him touching was the look on Dean's face. It was a fine line that Dean walked. He knew that Sam loved to give himself up to Dean, be in his control, but how could he have been the one who reached across the miles between them first? And so - things shifted once more. That night they rocked together slowly, Dean's chest pressed against Sam's back, their fingers entwined and held over Sam's chest. Dean slept through the night for the first time since the journey had begun.

The transition back into lovers took much longer then it had the first time. For awhile every first touch seemed carefully planned, each hesitating with long looks to ensure this was okay and right. And then that simply stopped.

It had been months since they found out the truth and Dean finally felt he could drag Sam in for a kiss, could run his hands along the man's sides, and _know_ it was okay. Sam felt it too, though neither addressed it aloud. Hell, they'd never addressed any of the transitions aloud. It was simply one thing morphing into another.

Until Dean got to relearn the feel of Sam's body, made better by the emotions that were laced with it. And Sam stopped shaking every time he crossed that line between brother and lover. With this, Dean finally felt the pieces coming together, that empty part of him filling up the brink and trickling over into the other places in his heart that were just as empty. Sam completed Dean. Dean completed Sam. Realizing that was probably the best transition Dean experienced.

Sam wasn't sure if he would ever contact John. It was okay when Dean called, it wasn't very often and Sam knew it was about letting John know they were both alive and well. Sam didn't need a father anymore, not a biological father. He had different answers he was looking for now and it felt good.

They helped people and Sam felt that every time they drove away from a hunt having made someone's life a little better that maybe he and Dean were buying themselves a little grace.

Sam started to ask about Mary. The stories that Dean told were weaving together in Sam's mind to give him a past that made sense, something that was strong enough to build a future on. The laughter was back in their lives and Sam had missed it.

" _Sam_ ," Dean called, smirking slightly as he leaned heavily against the motel door, raising his wrist to stare at his watch. "Would you quit curling your hair and hurry up? The ghost shows up around six and I don't want to miss it this time." After so many months of this, teasing Sam was almost like second nature. Dean did it mainly to see the annoyed flush of color that spread across his lovers face.

Strolling slowly across the room to snag his jacket off the chair Sam swung it high up in the air making sure that his t-shirt rode up to show Dean the light dusting of hair just visible above the waist band of his jeans. "Sorry. You know me... always late." He grinned and leaned into Dean's chest breath hot and moist on the other man's lips. He reached down and picked up the knife off the table and pulled back to slip it into its sheath on his belt. "Can't forget that." Smirking he moved toward the door.

"Hey." Dean crossed to him, pushing him against the hard wood and sliding his body against his. Their lips brushed for a few brief moments before locking together in a familiar, passionate kiss. After a moment Dean pulled back and grinned, reaching around to slap Sam's ass. "Do a good job tonight and I might just reward you."

Grinning Sam pulled the door open and looked back over his shoulder, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. "You say that like you almost believe there's a possibility I won't get what I want." He darted out the door ahead of Dean.

Head tilting back slightly, Dean let a warm chuckle fall from his lips. His eyes lingered on the still smirking Sam waiting by the car as he tugged the motel door shut and locked it. There was very little doubt in his mind that Sam was going to get what he wanted, but it was what Dean wanted too, so it didn't really bother him.

He grinned at Sam over the roof of the car as he pulled open the door. "Alright boy wonder, let's go kick some ass."


End file.
